Two Chaps Talking

Dear Fellow,

I've just finished setting up a new computer and, as a consequence, have had to reinstall Microsoft Word. Imagine then, my delight, when, as I typed the deathless line...

"Dear Fellow,"

... a small animated paperclip popped up to offer assistance.

I've been known to consult a dictionary, I've heeded a muse and, on occasion had recourse to the undoubted brain stimulant properties of an agreeable single malt. I have never, though - and pray God never shall - taken advice on style from a cartoon.

Enough of this whiffle. It seems we plunge with all the diplomacy of a lust crazed Bison further into war. What a bloody mess it all is. As neither of us are Etonians, it seems unlikely that we'll be sent to the front to commit sensitive crimes in a dugout and get blasted across Arras leaving only a slim volume of poetry and a mess of weeping Subalterns. Instead I have decided to follow an old idol, Lytton Strachey, and become a Conshie.

As you will remember, dear Lytton turned up at court to defend his position, carrying his knitting and a doughnut shaped inflatable pillow (he was a martyr to the 'Chalfonts'). When asked by the judge what he would do if a German soldier were to try to rape his sister, Strachey replied, 'I should attempt to interpose my body'.

Though I lack his ready wit and, indeed, nobody actually expects me to serve, I have had to content myself with joining the two million people on the recent peace march. This was a pleasingly British event. At least double the size of the countryside march and thus the largest act of civil disobedience in English history, it passed, as they say, without incident.

It was a wonderfully middle class event with face painting and Thermosi (is that the correct collective noun for Thermos flasks?) in abundant evidence.

I, of course, didn't actually march, having left that behind me on a Bournemouth drill square; no, I merely sauntered, brolly in hand and jolly nice it was too. I found myself sandwiched between a group of vocal Palestinians calling for the bombing of Israel and the Birkhamstead chapter of the Woodcraft Folk. I met several members of that redoubtable band, the 'Lesbian Avengers' (always to be found at any good march) who muttered darkly about things 'Kicking Off' but the only time I actually saw the constabulary engage with the protesters was to second a small squad to push some kids in wheelchairs (as opposed to 'put some kids in wheelchairs'). It was most heartening. Sadly, My Little Tony(tm) will pay precisely no attention to the march.

Latest other news in London has been the surprise success of Ken Livingstone's congestion charging scheme.

As of last Monday, any car entering the centre of London (an area bounded by Marylebone Rd, Park Lane, the Embankment and the City Rd) is charged £5 for the privilege. Security cameras shoot registration plates and fines of £80 are automatically sent to anyone who hasn't paid by midnight. The Daily Mail, of course, has issued cut-out number plates reading "5OD U KEN", but on the first day, all offender were duly fined and shut up immediately. By day two, the cab drivers who had moaned without ceasing since the scheme was first mooted were starting to make appreciative noises and by day three it was approaching bliss. Busses are becoming a real option (Imagine me hopping off the rear deck of a Routemaster) rather than a form of cattle transport for Scratchers*.

Of course, our exclusive London address is actually inside the ring and thus we get away with a charge of 50p per day for blissfully clear roads.

My next plan is to institute an intelligence test for entry to certain postal districts.

Anyroad. I must push on. I have to meet with tradesmen about conversions to the residence. Obviously I'd rather spend a constructive hour hammering coach bolts through my bell-end but, needs must and all.

What Ho!

Beefy Bingham

*Scratcher: A term coined by Little Sister to denote the indigent poor of London. "Because they are verminous and thus scratch?" I asked "No, she opined, because they have to scratch a living". God Help us all.