Don’t just sit there. Do something. An open letter (call it a respectful suggestion) to our wide-awake, ever-vigilant city fathers and mothers up there in the town hall. I’d intended to enclose a stamped addressed envelope but they’ve got our money to burn.
Concerning Rebecca Adlington, winner of medals at the Olympics. And a mere slip of a girl at 23. She’s giving up swimming for public speaking at 25 grand a pop.
If the city council can’t afford her, how about tapping Edinburgh chequebook-brandishing big businessmen? We want her first. Anything to thwart Glasgow, wildly ambitious, nakedly jealous of the Capital.
Fork handlers. McDonald’s is serving at the table its grub with, good golly, knives and forks! Table service! Even more incredible, it has so thrilled customers that they’ve asked the restaurant to regularise it.
All McDonald’s has to do now in this experiment is teach its customers what to do with a knife and fork.
Break it to them gently. First you hold the fork in your left hand . . .
Neigh mare, ta
I’m fast getting fed up with all these horsemeat jokes. I’ve just heard four on the trot. Every restaurant and hotel in Edinburgh begin their menus with “they’re under starter’s orders”. Oh, and by the way, whatever happened to Max Clifford?
Afterwords . .
. . . Did Gandhi have a gay lover from South Africa? a national paper wants to know in huge headlines. Does anybody care? Mind you, if Gandhi’s sandals crop up on eBay, I’ll be in smartish with a bid.