A guid new year to yin an’ aw, and here’s hoping for a peaceful 2018 for us all, although watching the leader of the free world hurl Twitter insults like ‘fat and short’ at the leader of another nation that purports to have nuclear weaponry makes me a tad uneasy and think about stockpiling tins of Heinz cream of tomato soup.
Might dig a bomb shelter in the garden, but I bet I’d need planning permission and that takes ages. Anyway, I’ve put the spring bulbs in.
It’s been a funny old year, 2017. My highlights included hissing like a demented cobra at Jeremy Corbyn to get on stage and being stood up by Theresa May, closely followed by attempting to stab Boris Johnson with a cocktail stick, only to find he could move a lot faster than his somewhat hefty frame would indicate.
I put that down to his public school background, where learning to outrun Glaswegians who have consumed their own bodyweight in Chardonnay is probably high on the curriculum, for obvious reasons. Everyone knows that the revolution will begin when a member of the ruling class falls under the hammer blow of a worker wielding a little wooden stick which previously held a black olive and prosciutto canape.
In addition, I also managed to get Number 10 put into some sort of minor flap in on the security front. I think I got the place locked down for a couple of minutes.
Sadly, a couple of minutes was all I could manage. Given the way things have been going there recently, I should have aimed for a week or so at least.
The security freakout was caused by me wandering off and leaving my Samsung tablet behind, where it lay unnoticed overnight.
The tablet has been behaving very oddly ever since. I suspect the security forces have hacked me, in which case there is a whole department in Whitehall dedicated to deciphering my online purchase history for the Christmas period.
I don’t know much about international terrorism, but I am fairly sure that evil enemies of the state don’t go in for self-heating hand warmers and Star Wars T-shirts.
Far more worryingly, in light of recent events, Damien Green of Parliamentary Pornwatch fame must have passed my little gizmo at least twice in that time. One dreads to delve too deep into its memory . . .