I despise getting behind with my work. The midnight crisis in which I deleted posts, dumped the old poll, and then went outside naked and howled at the moon was only going to delay me today. Yet there are so many things I have to write about. That’s the problem when a man of huge ambitions has a small crisis of confidence. It’s an ocean liner coming adrift on a grain of sand. Well, your comments have helped shift the grain and the propellers are turning once again on HMS Madeley. Give me an hour or two to get up a head of steam and then we’ll head into some tropical waters.
Before I go and turn out some serious verbiage, let me answer four questions that appeared in my blog statistics yesterday.
‘Which city is host to the only UK chapter of the Christmas Pudding Appreciation Society?’
‘Where can I see transvestites in tight skirts?’
‘How tall is Steven Fry?’
On a good day he’s six feet nine inches tall.
‘Judith Chalmers how old is she?’
She’s 87 but doesn’t look a day over 86.