Can you keep a secret?

Now politics is not my thing. I only know the name of the prime minister because I was cornered by him at some drinks do at Number 10 when he was going through his cool phase. He's banging on about his Stratocaster and how half the cabinet are closet rockers while I'm trying to make a rapid exit. In the end, I fall over the drummer's guide dog and it all gets a bit unpleasant.

Anyway, I'm in the Maharishi Curry and Tanning salon having a quiet five minutes and I spot this article in the paper about MI5 having a bit of a recruiting drive. Apparently, we can now expect the nation's security to be run by ex-middle managers more accustomed to directing the incontinent to the customer facilities in Tesco.

Call me old-fashioned but yours truly was a lot happier when all this was under wraps. I don't really want to know that counter-terrorism is now being monitored by someone who was once in charge of enhancing my dining experience at the local Harvester. Give me a dodgy toff with a public school education and penchant for young men any day. With people like that at the helm, at least you know where you stand. Next thing you know, they'll be bringing in a SPECTRE card with points for the most spies bagged in a month.

It'll all end in tears, mark my words.