Tony was on top form in the pub last night, entertaining his audience with his vulgar jokes and telling everybody about his colourful past.
What's more, we were both joined by two American students, who are in London for a few weeks, to get a feel of what life is like in the big city.
Well, to Tony, this was a gift from the gods, and when he saw that Kathy and Melissa seemed to be in awe of him, he soon toned down his language, and turned on the charm, telling our latest admirers that when he's not in the pub getting hammered, he's usually sat behind a desk, running an investment bank in the heart of London.
Kathy and Melissa were most impressed, and when Tony added that he's got a yacht in the south of France, and a house in Mayfair, I thought that the two beauties from Chicago were literally going to wet themselves.
I reckon the boy was right to invite the girls to St. Tropez for a long weekend, and Kathy and Melissa agreed to fly out in Tony's private jet.
Off course, at the end of the evening, the boy told the girls that in fact he's a hopeless loser, who hasn't worked for years, and who spends most of his time drinking, swearing and chasing after female tourists, hoping to lure them back to our flat, to "do things with one another."
The girls just laughed, and said that they just love the English so much, and that Tony, despite all of his faults, was a typical down to earth guy, who's obsessed with beer, football and fucking.
Needless to say, despite Tony promising Kathy and Melissa a night to remember, the two girls thanked us for our kindness, and left the pub, seemingly glad to have escaped the fat bastard's clutches.