Listening to: Jogging for Jesus – Leslie Harris and the Fire
Dear God, what a thought, Boris Johnson as prime minister looks more than likely. Doesn’t that encourage you to make it through the next winter? It’s incredible really, a man that tells stories that have very little connection with the truth, and in fact, doesn’t even use his real name! I hope it is immediately obvious that I really don’t like Boris Johnson, but I don’t suppose any one reads this blog. Sorry, I mean no-one reads this blog for my view of politics.
There are four things that he and I have in common (politics not being one of them).
- Everyone knows who you are talking about if you only use a first name, although I suppose that might not work so well in Moscow.
- In the course of our careers we have both met interesting people, although I doubt Boris could top meeting, the brother of the King of Sweden’s aqua vite mixer, the former calligrapher of the Columbian army and best of all, a fishfinger from the Singing Kettle.
- A penchant for quoting the classics (Scaramouche, Scaramouche will you do the fandango?)
- We both are carrying a few extra pounds.
Anyway, I have decided to address this latter point, and will be looking like the proverbial racing snake very shortly. It is easy to let yourself go when you leave the public eye, but not me. Later today a jogging I shall go. To be absolutely clear though, this has nothing whatsoever to do with the Colonel’s new nurse. Making someone feel welcome to Slackbuie by offering to show her the local jogging routes with which I am so well acquaint is nothing but neighbourly good manners.
I would just like to thank the paramedics and nursing staff who have confirmed I can go home tomorrow.
Atomic Crofter 