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Marco Pierre White is a man with a reputation. Cross swords with him and don't be surprised if you end up sleeping with the fishes - or at the very least waking up next to a lightly sauteed horse's head.
His enemies call him a bully. His friends insist it's his pursuit of perfection which leads to "misunderstandings". Still, there's nothing like seeing the Yorkshire battler in full-on action. Propping up the bar for a late (over-priced) cocktail at the Titanic the other night and in swept the proprietor himself, all corkscrew- hair, patched hacking jacket and cords. This is a big ship's ballroom of a place, low-lit in late evening. It's difficult to spot your hand in front of your face at the best of times, but the staff obviously scoff bags of carrots before clocking on because his presence was sensed at once.