This beautiful late summer day was the first date of the eighteenth season of the Pie and Mash League. Pleasant as it was to stand about chit-chatting on the pavements of Exmouth Market, the assembled dramatis personae were honing their pangs and sharpening their fangs for the baked goods of number 46 Exmouth Market.

Pictured above are two as-pie-ring publishers and pie-pushers from nearby Reaktion Books: new boy John O'Donovan and new dad Ben X. Hayes, who has been experiencing the joys of paterhood in the close season. Let's wish him our nutritional best for the months ahead; what better than mash and liquor for baby Mo's first solids and a pie crust for the teething stage?

There were plenty of teeth on display on the day; here pictured is the most affable and least flappable Pat who served our meals. In the other photo is newcomer Chris 'Shads' Charalambous, a North London postie who discovered this website recently and dropped us a line. Not by post. It could be the start of a beautiful correspondence.

Scootist Jason Sharp is the sole representative these days of Interior Services Group. During the summer it became apparent that the Club's Realistic Clay Pies Trophy would not be returned by colleague and 09-10 champ, D. Arkell esq:

'The trophy has been irrepairably damaged and has made its way to Tilbury via container barge accompanied by other household refuse. Unfortunately Dave, having never won anything before, didn't understand that the trophy had to be returned (presumably he thinks that a new FA cup is issued each year).'

With commendable gumption Mister Sharp has taken responsibility for the creation of a new trophy upon himself. I believe we can expect something durable in metal in the coming weeks.

Just across the booth Linda Jones was getting seriously stuck in after the long summer recess.

There's an old song from years ago called 'Are Friends Electric?' My dear chum and honorary bro Edward Mosse provides the affirmative and energetic answer.

Every time I meet colleague Denise Rouse, I have a mental block. How embarassing, as I am sure she has me rumbled from the outset as the bloke who always forgets her name. In spite of this, she remains a model of decorum from the borough of Dacorum.

Linda Robson, star of stage and screen, graciously joined us for a photo-call. Linda lives locally, and was enjoying a family visit to Clark's before being pestered by the pie and mash paparazzo. And this despite the opening line. 'Excuse me, I don't know your name, but I have seen you on the telly . . .'

Other local luminaries were in attendance; herewith Irene and Kate who are Friday lunchtime regulars.

Irish eyes were smiling as John O'Donovan tucked into two of London's premier pies, with four scoops [that's two] of mashed potato for added comfort. John rested his cutlery for some considerable time before receiving a polite reminder that a clean platter is the desired objective.

Graham MacLaurin lent the occasion distinction and not a little gravitas with his choice of tie. He has the statesman-like air sadly lacking in today's politicians, and would certainly get my vote for Pie Minister. Some ideas to stimulate voter participation:

1. 'The MP Factor', an interactive TV political talent show with Jeremy Paxman among the celeb judges.

2. 'Big Brother Parliamentary Edition', in which the nation's MPs have to live with each other in the House of Commons during the summer recess. The eventual winner would then become Prime Minister in the resulting 'mediocracy'.

In a parallel universe, an alternative p-n-m club occupies the back booth. Just to reassure you that even in a pink tie continuum, the same geometry applies: area of satisfaction = [pie x mash] squared.

In case you weren't sure, the Pie and Mash Club is made up of real people who meet in real time in a real place.

And you might be interested to know that the day's high scorer is a potential poster boy for Weight-Watchers. On Jan 1st this year, Chris Charalambous was a scale-busting 16 stones, but at the pre-match weigh-in tipped them at just 11. His winning weight-loss formula is simple; early to bed, early to rise, a bag full of post and a plateful of pies.

Our faithful chum Al Smith has a faraway look in his eyes, for he is about to migrate south for the winter. Expect a pie-related roving report from far flung New Zealand at some point.

Closer to home Linda Jones ponders a slice of something nice.

Cheers big ears.

St@ford