The Little Geezer
Long Story Old Cheese, Long Story. And one to which I shall endeavour to do justice as the wounds heal and the weeks pass. For the nonce let’s just say that the Fickle Mistress and I have once more parted brass rags and involved in that pantomime were, in no particular order, the Bride of Chucky, a Dementor, Sir Les Patterson’s idiot nephew, and goose stepping hordes who could teach Jim Jones’ mates a thing or two about voluntary consumption of chemicals that make you do things gentlefolk eschew. Needless to say one came out on top and is a better, richer, wiser man for it. One met new members with whom one broke bread and made merry. Decent chaps to a man. Yes there were cannons to the left of a chap and cannons to the right of a chap. But was not it ever thus?
