So, there was this bump and I found myself at the foot of a fig tree in next door's garden and it was 2006! Last I remember, illuminated reindeers were prancing across the roofs of the great unwashed and Tony Blair was running the country. Now there's some bloke called Dave cycling to work followed by motorised filing cabinet talking up the Tory massive.
The other bad news was that my beloved Doreen has decided that she's no longer wants to drink deep from the cup of lurve that is yours truly and has hopped it. Needless to say, an envelope the size of Wales has already landed on my doormat from her legal team demanding a significant portion of the Grope wedge. Beggers belief, really. I get on the mobile to my manager and he tells me that I need sort out some paid employment sharpish as the Grope wedge is more of a wafer-thin slice.
Next thing I know, there's a call from a film company who reckon they've got me down for an appearance in one of their latest productions. Apparently some yank actor has based his character on me. I assume that it's an all-action hero but at this point they go a bit quiet. Anyway look out for The Muppets On The High Seas at your nearest Odeon in the not too distant.
Must dash. I have a rather overdue appointment at the John Prescott Pie and Sausage Bar with my associates.
I think it's probably my round.
VG:RS
