One of the few hundred Chaps who turned up at the Third Chap Olympiad held yesterday at a secret location which turned out to be Hampstead Heath. This Chap does not go anywhere without his trusty binoculars, which are essential for “observing cleavage”.

 

The Chap Olympiad is an annual affair for the impeccably dressed dandies who have no interest whatsoever in sport. While there are contests ranging from sandwich (has to be cucumber of course) throwing to plucking out your opponent’s moustache using a pair of lobster claws to my favourite --- a spot of Mexican-style Greco-Roman wrestling against the Oriental beast Chap-a-san, to the untrained eye like myself, the competition comprises of Chaps sauntering about, drawing on their pipes and talking loudly to one another. The only rule, as the announced proudly proclaimed, is that gentlemanly skullduggery is permissable.

 

In previous years, one had to buy tickets for the Chap Olympiad. This year, in response to the global credit crunch (Chaps have a particularly poor credit rating, more on that later), the organisers have made entry free but potential participants had to visit seven shops in London frequented by Chaps for centuries to collect clues. So at Lock and Co (the hatters on St James St who still have Nelson’s hat on display) I had to ask for a bowler hat to withstand flying saucers in exchange for my clue. At Geo Tricker, I asked for a pair of brogues that would allow for the swiftest getaway from a furious lady. At Geo Trumper, who sells shaving products for gents, I asked for a my moustache to be trimmed in the Leslie Philiips style. I then asked Mackintosh for a raincoat to withstand several hundred spilt martinis. by this time, I had to go to the Criterion Theatre to look for the memory man because I had forgotten where I had left my umbrella. And then to the people at Old Hat for a pair of velvet jodphurs for my aunt. Lastly, at JJ Fox (the tobacconists) I asked for a pipe tobacco that will last a hundred yard sprint. Apparently, Oscar Wilde still owed JJ Fox £37 when he died, which was a princely sum in those days (remember what I told you about Chaps and their poor credit rating?).

 

I was struck by the range of Chaps on show on the Heath. You had people who must have wandered off the set of Brideshead Revisited. Then some who might have served in the RAF. But there was also a multi-cultural element to the proceedings which showed that Chappishness was a state of mind and transcended the British Isles. There a Sikh dressed as a member of the Sepoy Regiment. An Indian who came as a pipe-smoking holy man. Maybe I should have come with an embroidered smoking cap and smoking jacket (I never understood why smoking jackets look like night-gowns). Funnily enough, the two people who came in smoking jackets did not smoke.

 

Anyway, some more photos.