Branson's grand slam

High times at the Kensington Roof Gardens. Richard Branson's annual pre-Wimbledon knees-up was fuelled by a sea of Grey Goose Vodka cocktails and athletic superstars. A groaning spread that would have embarrassed the Emperor Nero sated the sun-dried sportspeople, while a limited, if delicious, cocktail menu made a chauffeur the accessory of the evening.

Much to the delight of the waiting paps - who shouted her name and blinded her with flashbulbs for the better part of 10 minutes - the stately Maria Sharapova turned up. I received a firm handshake and a girlish giggle from the Russian champ, and resolved not to wash for a week. The Williams sisters, Venus and Serena, then arrived, making Sharapova look decidedly petite.

Over soft drinks and photo calls, the indomitable duo swapped stories with Martina Hingis, Pat Cash, Greg Rusedski and the British sprinter Darren Campbell. Meanwhile, the American tennis stud Robbie Ginepri enjoyed the buffet so much he went back for fourths. "That is some good pork" he declared, of the English roast pork and crackling.

Elsewhere, Branson looked serious while discussing affairs of state with Baroness Amos, and then impish when he and Sharapova announced the London-wide "lights-off" hour, at 9pm. It was bright daylight at 9pm, so no drama there. Still, Sharapova told us all to "Behave!" - and who were we to disagree?

Candles lit, the fun began, and Branson's socialite children, Sam and Holly, were the main cheerleaders. While Holly held court at father's dinner table, Sam caroused at the bar with his current squeeze, the tricksily-monikered Isabella Anstruther-Gough- Calthorpe. No one left early. Few left sober. A smashing bash, Richard.

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