What Ho Proles!
I'm feeling slightly ashamed of myself that my memoirs have taken such a back seat this weekend. I must force myself to return to the story tomorrow...
Last night I got unfeasibly drunk with Larry Harris who had tootled up from London to persuade me to help the party prepare for the next election. If you’ve been following my memoirs, you’ll recognise Larry because he used to be my campaign manager during the last run out against Blair’s lot. He’s currently working for a well known member of the shadow cabinet, doing preparatory work on the green issue. It gave me plenty of chances to mock the poor fellow on all matters ecological. Larry wouldn’t know the difference between and oak and an alder, but isn’t that always the way with these inner city environmentalists who get misty eyed over urban foxes and want to attach wind turbines to every chimney pot?
This is all an aside and what I mean to say is my head’s very heavy today. Wine lubricates my words very poorly so I won’t bother you much with my theories of why England’s doing so damn poorly in the Ashes. Tomorrow I return to work and aim to start the run in to finishing the memoirs. I still have plenty of stories to tell and shames to confess.
Toodle pip.
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1 comment:
As I continue to look for women chasing me with large dogs, I wish you well and hope that you, and your poor head are feeling better soon.
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