Formerly the site of an estate agent, Robin's of Wanstead is the latest addition to the East End mini-empire run by septuagenarian matriarch June Robins. Opened in March 2009 to local protest that it would 'bring the tone of the neighbourhood down', this shop operates on traditional family values, and we were greeted by Mrs Robins' sister Mary. She was as impeccably turned out as the spotless black-and-white tiled dining room, and service was polite, efficient and with a smile. The black and white theme is continued within and without, but the overall effect is surprisingly warm and cosy. A striped awning makes use of the extra pavement space to the side of the shop and provides overspill which, even on a grey and chilly winter day, was surprisingly full.

Len Wilcock had done a full days' work and gone home and showered before meeting us; we were truly grateful. Wilcock and Arkell were at last seated together on the same marble-top, which groaned beneath their massed portions. There was a definite buzz which only heavyweights can generate; this season could be ending with the mouthwatering prospect of a Rumble in the Jungle...

Another man who can generate buzz is Edward Wasp, still a long way from a haircut. Ed is holding out till the March production of Midsummer Night's Dream in which he is rumoured to play a 'rude mechanic'. Quipped Wilcock, 'you're a Midsummer Nit's Dream, son.'

We were graced with the company of 'all-nice' Paul Grice. Careful research on Google at lunchtime revealed that Grice is a Norman surname; the first record of it was found in Norfolk where the family were, in 1066, Lords of the Manor of Brockdish. [Read more here]. In these egalitarian times, it's going to take more than a family name and a 2,2 and 1 to become Lord of the Pie-dish, but we welcome him with open arms. I think he has the makings of a stalwart, and believe me there is no finer compliment in this society. Seated with Paul here is James Edward Tanner of Epping.

Most local of all was Bob Hollingsworth, who had an easy-osey 5-minute stroll from his Wanstead front door. He's become a regular here. Whom I took to be Bob's mate was in fact Club newcomer Peter Riley. Peter had quit a top-level meeting in London Bridge just to get here on time. I hope the board-room table was thumped and the door duly slammed.

The fare.

Another family crest, this time Robins's. This one also has a ketchup and mustard theme.

Tomfoolery was in evidence. I think these boys were ridiculing the club photographer.

Bungle! Caught red-handed on camera was Jamie Tanner receiving an incoming call. O dear Jeffwey, minus five points.

An affable fellow by name of John Cushway appoached us: 'Are you the Pie and Mash Club then?' Long-suffering West Ham follower and more importantly, ardent fan of Pie and Mash, John was working in the area and popped in for a pie. He has in the past distinguished himself by tiling half of the floor of Kelly's in the Roman Road. How the other half got laid [ahem] he did not elucidate. I'm sure his work speaks for itself, but I rather hope John's tiles are monogrammed for ease of recognition.

This picture shows my Stretch Armstrong-like left arm to maximum effect.

In my utopian future all estate agents will be pie and mash shops as well, thus offering food, shelter and hope to one and all.

St@

Meanwhile there were pies-a-plenty by proxy over at Maureen's in All Saints. These two athletes have had the guv'nor breathing down their necks. Advance notice was given and documentary evidence furnished. When Sharp ventured that the receipts were necessary for the Pie and Mash Club the following dialogue ensued:

'What did you want the receipt signed for again?'

'We're members of a club called the Pie and Mash Club. We have to prove what we've eaten today or we'll lose points. You've met them before; Nick Evans, Tom Leader, Len Wilcock.'

'Len Wilcock? You're a mate of Len's??'

The liquor thickens . . .