- Time – 1979
- Place – London
- Manager – Patrick Malynn
Patrick, Never Paddy
Patrick Malynn was a tall, elegant Irishman and what you would call a dapper dresser.
He could also talk at a volume most people couldn’t even shout at.
I was convinced this was due to him having a slight hearing impediment something he would never have admitted to.
Most people in the business knew him as Paddy Malynn, however if you ever have made the mistake of calling him Paddy to his face, he would go absolutely ballistic.
One day during a phone conversation with him, I went to say his name Patrick. The problem was just as I said Patrick, he started to talk over me. All he heard me say was Pat…, thinking I had said Pad he immediately hung up on me. He could certainly be a little touchy.
Over the years I had many dealings with this wonderful, over the top character.
One of my favourite stories involving Paddy, sorry Patrick, was when my wife Suzie and I were invited to have dinner with him at his favourite restaurant.
We were to meet at his beautiful top floor apartment in Clifton Gardens, Maida Vale.
A modestly furnished residence, the walls were covered with paintings by a variety of famous artists, it all looked a little tastelessly to Sue and me.
We were to meet him at his flat at 8pm on the Saturday evening.
An Evening To Remember
On arriving Patrick immediately asked what we would like to drink, Sue replied,
“A glass of medium white wine please.”
“Suzie, I only have champagne, so what sort of champagne would you like.”
A little ostentatious perhaps but typical Patrick.
The TV was on in the background and the screen was filled with beautiful women from the American hit show Dallas.
Patrick looking at the screen was remarking as to what sort of favours he could do for the female cast members.
As he kept glancing out the window, he explained that his girlfriend had been at his flat for the last twenty-four hours and had to go home this afternoon to rest because she was completely exhausted.
We gathered from his insinuations that the last twenty-four hours apparently had been a non-stop feast of carnal pleasure for them both.
For the next hour or so, every ten minutes Patrick would look out of the window. He kept repeating his story about how tired she must be, adding,
“If she is not here in the next ten minutes we must leave, otherwise we will lose our table reservation at the restaurant.”
Ten more minutes past and finally Patrick said,
“Well! Let’s go, leave your car here and we will go in the Roller.”
Patrick was locking his door to his apartment and I started to walk down the stairs with Sue close behind me.
On reaching the ground level I opened the main front door to find a beautiful young lady dressed in a mink coat, she was just about to press one of the door bells.
An Unexpected Visitor
She looked at me and said,
“Hello, are you Mr. Malynn? I am your escort for the evening.”
Patrick could be heard scurrying down the stairs.
I replied
“I think Mr. Malynn will be here any second.”
Patrick arriving behind me at the front door, harassed and surely embarrassed said,
“Kenny, you take your car and follow me.”
It was obvious with Patrick changing his mind so quickly about travelling in one car that he needed the time to explain to the young lady the story of their last twenty-four hours together.
Despite arriving late at the restaurant, our table was not ready so we sat in the bar looking over the menu.
Patrick and the young lady were busy playing their parts of being long-time friends when Mario, the maître d’, came over to greet Patrick and said,
“Hello Patrick how are you?”
Shaking his hand, Patrick quickly introduced the rest of us to the maître d’, who started to touch the top of Patrick’s head, playing with his hair, then in a loud voice said,
“This is fantastic, my friend had it done, his head was swollen for weeks and you could still see it wasn’t real hair, Patrick this is incredible, the best I have ever seen.”
This would be the first and only time I ever saw Patrick lost for words.
Shortly after we ordered and were served a wonderful meal and drank some splendid wines.
Sue and I had a great evening, but it truly wasn’t Paddy’s night.
“No one believes a liar, even when they’re telling the truth.”
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