June Newsletter 2016

Once again I am asked how I come up with these phantasmagorical tales.

Well let me tell you.

You leave a couple of politicians in charge of the magical lantern and suddenly they are projecting all sorts of frightening images onto the wall, playing with our imagination, fuelling our fears, creating a farrago, until in their frenzy to outdo each other, they knock the magic lantern over and then scarper, blaming each other for burning the theatre down.

I think we drew the short straw.

The Italians have opera, which is their theatre drawn from real life, the Japanese; Kabuki with their exotic make-up, masks and songs, the Mexicans have their wrestling with its exotic make-up, masks and songs, just ask Donald; and the Welsh have Gareth Bale.

We have on the other hand have got the “The Good Old Days” back, with Leonard Sachs and all the pathos of a smug pug singing the “Marseillaise”. Apparently we have our country back?

Long, lazy days of doing sweet FA, not unlike our premiership superstars. Drinking cider in the parks, fighting like the Inter City Firm, no grudge too small, no boots too big, all in the days before love and ecstasy. How bizarre to see a smile on everyone’s face.

I owned an Austin Allegro with its oddly shaped, square steering wheel and it didn’t matter if it was made on a Friday, it was a dreadful car on whichever of the 3 days a week it was made. I think it ran on coal, and the suspension was made out of elastic bands.

Now admittedly if I was dragged back to “The Darling Buds of May” and Catherine Zeta-Jones was my Cherie Amour I might view it as a lovely summer day, but 1976 was a long time ago, and there is only so much rolling around in the hay one can do. Quiet, anybody who thinks they know better!

How the nostalgia seeps up through cracks in the pavement, and it will, but we have moved on.

With the French in charge of EDF, the Germans owning nPower and Eon UK, the Spanish, Scottish Power, to paraphrase ‘The Sun’; “If common sense does not prevail, will the last person to leave Britain please blow the candle out!”

I am fascinated to see how nasty politics has become. Perhaps they have been trapped in the underworld for a very long time with Perseus, drinking absinthe and caustic soda, watching endless repeats of Eastenders.

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment was stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

If only I could get him to give Boris’s bike puncture!

Now, is not the time for politicians to enter into philosophical discussion, it is time to run. The masses now have pitchforks and the politicians are looking a lot like Wicker Men.

Anyway I shall head back to Ibiza, and Hedonism not Hades, I know where my priorities lie.

I will not be staying in the new rural hotel bocadilloed between the club DC10 and the airport. It is called ‘In Flagrante’. So if you are spied in ‘delicto’ it will be by drugged up clubbers from 500ft landing at 3am. I supposed you might say. “Only in Ibiza”.

Since May’s newsletter I have visited the island a couple of times. The first trip involved Neil, Tony and myself spending the night in the DJ booth at Pacha with a young, up and coming DJ called David Morales. The best set I have ever witnessed, below are a couple of photos.

Can you call me back, I'm working

Can you call me back, I’m working

Needin' U

Needin’ U

It finished very late! As it did every night, and I will admit to falling asleep for 20 minutes at the bar, Itaxa at 6.30am, where they serenaded me into slumber with a Spanish guitar. The eighty year old lady, who owns it, gave me a tea towel for a pillow! Tony’s eyes were open, but don’t sharks sleep that way?

We visited a bar called Exis owned by Birgit a German friend and she has a wall covered in photos of clients over the years. It was a poignant reminder of losing my dear friend Richard, 5 years ago, and how many of the faces that stare out from these photos are still with us?

The photo speaks for itself.

The Wall

The Wall

We enjoyed the usual birthday celebrations on Formentera, and after 6 litres of vodka, this spider saw a fly and the hypnotic spray from the wake of the boat sped us from one paradise to another.

FLy

Fly

Spray

Spray

June is easily the best month in Ibiza, the sea not too crowded, nor the restaurants or bars, people are still calm. Neil is still drinking green tea, before the triple espresso, high octane ‘cafe caleta’ season starts.

As in the past I have used trips to Ibiza to avoid going to Pitti Uomo in Florence. This may be the final straw, and why I may never go again. I also re-iterate, this is not me. It is so wrong on so many levels and in what world does this person think this looks acceptable. There are moments in fashion where you realise that the vogue has reached a tipping point and those teetering on the brink will tumble into the sea to be dashed against the rocks, dresses made out of newspaper, anything with a medusa’s head, shoes that make you walk like Dick Emery and braces that look like a ‘Mankini’ for a dandy!

Brace yourself

Brace yourself

Lastly a sunset, because we have been bereft of suns a setting, lords a leaping, seven swans a swimming, I have been lucky with the ladies dancing, but one makes ones own luck? Unless you are sharing a table in a restaurant; some will know this story, the rest can only guess at how I might have been transformed!

Sunset

And a Jakeism to end – Christmas is now closer than the last New Year. Joy, thy name is Time!

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

March 2013 – Volpe Newsletter update

This one will be easier to understand, I am too tired to be cryptic, and I’ve put a few photos on the blog site. You know a picture paints a thousand words, and all that!

It had been a toss-up between surf and ski, but given all the cold weather we’ve had, it wasn’t a difficult choice.

So I’m back from Ibiza, and I used Ryanair €17. Don’t know what I was moaning about, sadly Stansted isn’t exactly on my doorstep. The worst part of the journey was the one hour and fifteen minutes it took to get through border control this end!

Anyway, I got the job done. Shoes were collected, tattooing underway, fitting done, and now I can sleep soundly, probably for a week after Sunday’s villa party.

The villa was like all villas in Ibiza, at the end of a very long gravel track. It had started to rain when we arrived, and when we left at 5.30 am it was still raining, but this is Ibiza where nothing stops a good party and it was a very good party.

Eugene went out to take some air, and whilst wandering round the garden managed to disconnect the power supply, and all the lights went out at Pacha, 10 miles away! Neil managed to lose his special red bandana (towel) that was wrapped round his head, and me? Well, I was wandering sideways like a crab. I would insert a photo here, but at this point we were a little too far gone.

A big thank you to the guy who drove us home, it was one of the random acts of kindness. OK, it involved a long walk down another gravel track in search of a car, but we got there in the end.

Once home, Neil went to sleep on the sofa, Ina went to bed, and Eugene and I climbed up to roof terrace to watch the sun come up (it had stopped raining), and to drink a little more! Here is a photo of Eugene emulating Icarus. I ended up going to sleep at 8am.

Icarus - Eugene

But we were up fresh as daisies at midday to go for lunch, and off we headed to Cala Jondal for a bite on the beach. The sun came out; it warmed up, 22C and a bit of a breeze. Jealous, I would be!

IMG_0250

Scratch joined up with us for dinner, she’d sensibly slept through the rest of the partying. Just as well, she might have found the pool at the villa a little too tempting!

Scratch

You may think that suddenly I’m posting loads of photos of my exploits on the blog site. Let me remind you it is mine and I can do what I want.

So I will leave you with one last photo, which to me encapsulates (I did spell check it), Ibiza and that amongst all the mayhem, some beauty remains. Since I was last there some restaurants have closed, some more clubs have opened, but the essence of the island remains. You just need to get away from the hustle and bustle.

Punta Gallera
And I will leave you with one last thought. If certain substances are your flavour, be warned, a friend of mine who has a house in the centre of Ibiza saw a local person scraping white paint off a wall with a car key, not everything is what it seems! Do you think it would get you plastered?

Copyright © 2013 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

March 2013 – Volpe Newsletter

March Newsletter 2013

Let’s get the weather out of the way first. It has been very, very cold and very, very grey and I know we are all fed up with it. Those of you who have managed to get away will mean once again I am deluged with “Out of Office” replies.

However have you thought that the minute the sun bursts forth, the too tight t-shirt, Birkenstocks, shorts and hairy leg brigade will be out in force? Not in such a hurry for the first shafts of sunlight now methinks.

OK, so I’m getting this one out a little early, but I’m off to Ibiza, and given the state I might be in, it might make even less sense than normal. Is that an incredible Burt Wonderstone mushroom I see before me? Quick call the police. On second thoughts no, the first two albums were OK, but then Stu started chucking drumsticks. Good shot! I will never play their music in the shop again. Well apart from Peanuts, but I have my reasons.

For those of you who read and remember my newsletters, my ‘D’ list celebrity friend is now a street artist on the island. There is a little patch of concrete by the marina where he plies his trade. He will be painted aubergine it’s this summer’s hot colour! He just lies there prone like a strange shaped vegetable, either that or he fell asleep and people started dropping coins onto his pile of clothes. He was trying to fashion one of those ‘fakir’ poses whereby he looked suspended in mid-air, but then the stick broke! Gone are the days of Panto, glitter and glamour.

Remember, I have no ‘A’ or ‘B’ list celebrity friends or customers, but we did have someone wear one our suits in “Skyfall”. It was only confirmed recently so I didn’t want to tempt fate.

To some it may seem I am a little too loose tongued in my newsletters, but I choose my topics carefully. I have a huge ego, so it’s all about me as you know too well, and now I have started a book about my colourful life. I shall not be inviting Wazzer Rooney to ghost write it.

Ibiza you ask. Well, I gave in, I was going to leave this trip until the end of May, but given the weather here, I couldn’t delay it any longer. It is for work! We are tattooing leather for a couple of clients, so I’m going to drop some off and pick some up, and do a fitting for a suit. Neil is carving skulls, plus clouds, some lotus flowers, perhaps even a butterfly into the shoes of the good and the great.

CWF 1

Charlie will be so pleased to get his shoes back, that’s such an Ibiza name isn’t it? Photos will be available on the blog, and on Facebook, for those of you who are allowed accounts.

I may add to my collection, but the customer always comes first. In my case it will not be shoes, it will be tattoos of the flesh. Neil thinks my latest design is a little effeminate, not the word he used, but I think this way is a little more polite. I’ll run it past Eugene he’s driven down from Copenhagen to spend a few days. There is a bar in the marina where a drink is named after him, and after my last visit when we were all together in September, I have absolutely no idea what it was called, or maybe I just can’t remember! If I call you at 5am to wake you, just ignore me.

One thing I can guarantee is that we won’t be sleeping a lot, but will I don the mankini? I think it will be Pacha, Amnesia, Pacha, Amnesia, Pacha, Amnesia. Sorry where was I? Then I won’t be able to pass up a foam party, and head off delirious to DC10 where I shall jump up and down trying to grab the undercarriage of incoming planes. You know I’m high on life.

Stop press…. Mateo can’t make it he will be spending Easter with the lovely Cristina, so the mankini will be mine! But, Martin from Argentina will be there, now the wheels will certainly come off. I have photos of him snorkelling in the snow in Verbier, wearing nothing more than a smile. At least that’s what it seemed like, but it was hard to tell it was so cold and he was face down. As a very good friend of mine would say “Bere”, it’s a great shame that on this occasion she won’t be joining us, hopefully next time.

I’ll be back Tuesday night, with Ryanair!!!!!!  I know, never say never. It was the only way I could get back to meet some friends who are coming from Italy for a month to learn English, but I will not be teaching them, I shall leave that to a professional.

With regard to last month, some of you were a little confused about the 24 not 22 comment, and one or two of you gave some quite surprising suggestions. Let me lay rumours to rest. The 24 bus takes me from home to Vash and back again, and the 22 goes past The Wolseley, I use the 24 not the 22. Thank you for the flattering remarks.

I supply the newsletter in printed form, in a plain brown envelope to one particular lady (she views me as her toy boy, she is after all hmmmm years old), because she says, and I quote “she finds them a little racy”. Once read they are shredded so hubby doesn’t see them. Well hush my mouth I didn’t think I was being that particular shade of grey. Let’s just hope she can cope with the book I’ve just given her as a present.

And finally and this is not a joke. We are now offering a new service we are hand washing and finishing your knitwear, so you can store all your cashmere and merino wool for the summer months, when they finally arrive. There will be a small charge, but I know that many of you are a little worried by the prospect of looking after your cashmere, so I thought this might help you.

To err is human to forgive is? Well sometimes forgiveness is deserved, sometimes earned, but should be given with an open heart. Gandhi said that the weak can never forgive; forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

Photographs of the trip will follow upon my return!

Copyright © 2013 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

September 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

What a busy month you have all had. It looks like things are back to normal.

My friend Mark had a birthday. The party, or should I say ensuing bender lasted for several days, and only ended when he remembered he should be working. However sleep deprivation has sharpened his reflexes, and on his way to work, he only fell out of the taxi rather than falling in. He is still not welcomed by British Airways.

Talking of birthdays, Sam had one and Jake is having his. If you are reading this on Sunday the 30th, then big up for Jake as he is 30 today, try not to choke on the Frosties. As an early adopter he has his hands on the new iPhone 5. However he is concerned about the size of his sim. Jake just how old are you? Oh yes, I forgot 30.

I shan’t mention the football to him, it’s not going well, but the way they are going, he’ll be playing for them next season, and then I really won’t get any work out of him on a Saturday afternoon.

This week I spent a day in Ibiza.  To cut a long story short…. No let’s not, I have a newsletter to fill, and I had an insistent customer who is desperate to have his shoes tattooed (his name is Charlie, how Ibiza is that?). As I had something I needed to do with Neil, and also to fit a customer for a couple of suits, I took the opportunity. The suits will be particularly sparkly, just the things for spinning the discs at Pacha or Amnesia. Now where was I, I’d forgotten.

Neil’s Leg

And then there was of course Neil’s special cargo, his skulls. I found these while I was poking around a flea market in Florence. His studio is full of strange objects stripped back to bare bones: monkeys, cats and lots and lots of skulls. I always expect to see him sitting in a corner running a gnarled nail over an old skull grinning manically into the middle distance. But then that’s his normal demeanour. Oh stop it Neil you’re freaking me out! His favourite piece of this delivery was an eagle skull which I am sure he will put to good use scaring off the pigeons.

I left London on Monday night with Easyjet and arrived at 1am. Neil and I went out for a drink and we didn’t arrive home until 6am. I can still do Ibeefa with the best of them. The night was been spent in the company of a man called Eugene and a couple of others, who were there for 5 days and had no intention of sleeping. However as I was breakfasting with Neil at 11am, Eugene appeared looking rather lost, not sure where the other two had got to, saying he wasn’t feeling so good, and about as pale as Michael’s cadaverous feet. It was taking its toll.

When I returned to Neil’s studio I met a very good customer of mine, who was with Neil for a marathon tattoo session, 6 tattoos in 7 hours. Oh, how I felt his pain.

I returned to the UK at 5am the following morning, after another Easyjet delay. No beach, no clubs and who says my life is fun…..

As I have mentioned my friend Michael, I should remind you of his trip to Naples and his adventures with male fragrance (see previous editions of these epic meanderings). His current “fave” is by Tom Ford, and called “Auld Wood”. Is someone having a laugh? Obviously not Michael, who hates the thought that he might be considered to be or to have old wood, but I know his bark is worse than his bite.

Well the joke wasn’t that bad!

The wedding of the year took place last week, and I was invited. A very beautiful, simple and elegant affair, but then the men were all dressed by me. Yes, you got it, forget the bride, it’s all about me, me, me. But she did look stunning.

Then on Sunday, the groom took his new wife on one of the most clement days this year, to White Hart Lane, to see the mighty Spurs defeat QPR. Yes, I know, I was slightly puzzled as to why? However he is a fanatic, and the wife, she will have to get used to it. Perhaps if she doesn’t enjoy it, she could buy the club, because she can, appoint AVB, and just wait for it all to implode. What do you mean that’s already happened? Now I’m not a Spur’s supporter and in fact I don’t support anyone (apart from Jake after yet another defeat), but I rather enjoyed the whole experience. My highlight was to have my photo taken with a couple of former Spurs players, Martin Peters and Pat Jennings. Now if only I was old enough to remember them. I was wondering if they had doubles that do the same thing at Arsenal and West Ham.

Martin Peters and Pat Jennings

If so could I get one to replace me, whilst I sail around the world.

Talking of which, Jason is headed for San Francisco, for yet another holiday. Does he ever work? I hear you all ask. Sorry Jason, have you been away?

Recently I have struck up a friendship with a chap. He is doing what can only be described as a “deal”. I can’t say what it is, but it’s legit’, although he and the other characters involved are doing their best to make it appear, otherwise. Clandestine meetings at Claridges or the Hotel Metropole in Monaco, lots of very large gentleman in tight suits, who don’t look like they are just there for show. Who might know how to dangle you out of a hotel window to see the colour of your money as it floats gently in the breeze towards the hotel pool. It’s beginning to resemble a Guy Ritchie movie, and my friend, who is also a well-built chap, is now known as “Danish”. It’s all in the name after all we had the character “Turkish” in Snatch.

Following last month’s newsletter, my friend phoned me from Tanzania to explain his spear was really quite impressive, and as I started to discuss this with him, he cut the conversation short, explaining this call was costing him 7 pounds a minute…. I thought he was a man of substance. His words are as shallow as his pockets…

That’ll have him back on the phone for impugning his credentials.

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

August 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

Firstly, Jake is back from holiday – oh joy. And just as I was able to catch up on some work.

Congratulations to all our medal winners, a magnificent haul. It seems a shame that they won’t all be honoured in the time honoured way, a large contract with the BBC. They should be rewarded for their efforts, but somehow like exam results it is fashionable to move the goalposts just as the ball crosses the line. Perhaps to do a U turn, just to show we care. Of course by “we” I mean Dave and Nick, who I’m sure I will be snuggled up under the duvet of coalition as soon as it gets cold and the electricity prices go up.

Most of you seemed to scarper as soon as the Olympics started and were not to be seen again until we dropped the baton. But it did mean that you could get a table in any restaurant in London, and cross Piccadilly without looking.

Jake is now offering me his iphone 4S 64GB, so he can upgrade to the new iphone 5 when it comes out. At what he says will be at a preferential rate, he is even going to throw in a very attractive gold Wolves case! Aaaaaaarggghhhhh. Many of you missed the start of the football season. Oh, poor Jake; the first game a loss and now the board are selling off the crown jewels, left right and centre. Their season is over.

It is a similar dilemma for me, when asked, why there are never any plain blue or white shirts in the sale. It’s a simple answer, next season I will have to go out and buy the same thing again for more money. Have football clubs not grasped this simple concept? The key is in the word simple, or Joey Barton!

Talking of the crown jewels, I would have expected nothing less from Harry.

Well it’s not the first time, but once again I am writing this sat on an aeroplane. I have avoided jokes about the mile high club for the sake of the prurient amongst you. Is it really up, up and away?

Back to Florence again, life is full of hardship, but as Sam has been very quiet on the travel front, I thought I should take up his mantle. This weekend I should be meeting up with Sunil in a Castello near Viterbo. He is taking a holiday, wonders will never cease.

Things are going well there. But those of you who know, know, and those of you who don’t, I’m sorry for the moment my lips are sealed. Isn’t that so unlike me, but then I’m nothing but capricious.

And please, I am not helping “Dear Silvio” with his return. This is well underway, and they have found a stash of lire in a warehouse in Palermo which should boost the economy. ON everyone someone has written, please pass this on for luck……..

Obviously this was last weekend, but I was writing this beforehand, trying to show that there is input throughout the month.

Also I could recount every tube and bus journey, and the ins and outs of my Oyster Card, but I’d soon have you all asleep, and we’ve only just begun.

A few updates are in order. Jason is back from hols, and knowing his reputation, woe be tide any young ladies that might have been in his vicinity upon his Athenian travails, you know what happens. Shirley is not far from releasing her first born upon the world. By the time this is published she will have stopped working, and Marie tells me that the time is nigh. She could always spend her days reliving her pregnancy via my newsletters on the website, hoping the odd snigger may induce labour and get it all over with.

Some of you may remember Eugenia who used to come into the shop from time to time. Yes, she’s the one who we taught to see a second meaning in everything, a degree in double entendre. By we, I mean me, because poor Jake was too young and innocent. I did say he was! Eugenia is getting married later this year, to Ricardo from Ecuador. Eugenia is multi lingual. Good, avoided the obvious joke, but you know where I was going. She even speaks Swahili, which surprised the heck out of a friend of mine. I’m pretty sure she told him that his spear wasn’t as big as he thought. I think Ricardo knows what he is letting himself in for, and I did try to warn him, but perhaps he is blinded by her looks. She is very pretty. Sorry Gen, but you have grown into your ears. Oh, how I remember the days when we used to be able to pick you up by them!

Michael is in Mikonos, and has been on a diet for what seems like forever, and all he talks about is food, I think this has severely affected his mental state, and it’s made his legs turn yellow. Oh no, that’s the fake tan, and his feet are still cadaverous. B*$£h I can hear him say. I just wish I could be there to see him exit the water, a la Daniel Craig. I just hope he remembers to tie the cord on his trunks, up. But it would be so like him not to. However Michael is looking very svelte, he just tries to thwart me by buying macaroons from Pierre Herme (eat your heart out Laduree) this is the real deal.

Neil doesn’t appear to have noticed that I’m not in Ibiza, but I think his head has been turned by an Italian beauty supplied by Pink, who is down there helping Neil out.

Sorry another update, Neil has noticed that I’m not in Ibiza. By all accounts August has left him a nervous wreck. All of those acres of unadorned flesh have left his needles blunt, and only faithful Scratch for company.

And although he hasn’t been mentioned for a while my ‘D’ list celebrity “friend”, has been spotted promoting clubs on the beaches in Ibiza. This generally involves you walking around shirtless, tanned and surrounded by a bevvy of girls dressed the same way. However in his case it means dressed as a Pacha Cherry. A strange way of getting your five-a-day.

And finally Richard has been gone a year, but not forgotten. His chair remains, and perhaps I shall have a brass plaque made to honour him in his absence. Only recently have the emails been returned, perhaps he keeps tabs on my grammar via the website. He will always be able to return to somewhere, where he is known.

Sent from my ipad

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

September 2011 – Volpe Newsletter

The “Closing Party Season” is upon us.

I am sat outside the shop adorned in a garment I will mention later in the newsletter, happily tapping away at the keyboard, enjoying the last rays of summer sun. Around me people are as inappropriately dressed as I am, oblivious to the onset of the evening air which will wrap its cold arms around them like a vampire’s embrace (creative writing course)!

Friends from far and wide are descending upon Ibiza to enjoy one last hurrah, before they hang up their Glo-Sticks for a few months.

The weather in Ibiza until now has been everything it hasn’t been here, hot, very hot and sunny, and did I say hot. However for the last weekend of the season we managed to send them a little rain and some thunder in an attempt to dampen their spirits, whilst they wander around Circoloco at DC10 or whichever club they can blag their way into.

Mateo, the mild mannered architect from La Coruna is there for a stag party. Not his own I should add, but he phoned me to ask me where he could buy a fluorescent “mankini”. How the heck should I know? I would have said something else, but the spam filters you know! We’ve been friends a very long time and because we are the same size, we’ve shared clothes, but never, ever again.  I mean I shudder at thought of sharing my mankini with anyone! Anyway I need mine for the weather here.

Neil, the tattooist phoned me yesterday to complain that I’d been neglecting him. So we chatted for a while on Skype. I have missed him this year, but intend to make up for it next. Well, that is if he ever speaks to me again after Mateo and his group of drunken mates turn up requesting tattoos of gecko’s, dolphins, stars and Pacha cherries.

Neil is going to hit the clubs of Asia and Slovenia in the company of superstar DJ, David Morales before going off to find himself. He did mention circumnavigating the earth in a coracle with Scratch his dog. Where do you start talking someone down from doing that? Hopefully the Ibiza madness will subside, and he’ll just climb a mountain again instead.

Sam has had a birthday this month, and as he is always reminding me that the newsletters are nearly always late, or is always nearly late? I will remind him that he will never be as old as me. Everybody else with a birthday and anniversary this month, many congratulations, I include Jake in this, it’s his birthday today and I have given him the day off. You see I can be merciful. Now I should be able to get away with buying him some useless gadget, like a pen or propelling pencil, as the wheels are already starting to come off Wolves season, they’ll be no need for the new away kit. He’d probably ritually burn it in a fit of pique whilst sticking pins in an effigy of Joey Barton.

Dorothee has been in to buy a “racy” burgundy knitted silk tie for hubby Colum. She didn’t know how to get a mention, so I took pity. Like so many of us she has been dealing with builders. Apologies to the builders amongst you, like retailers we know they are not all the same. Yes I know, in my case some are worse than others.

Now, I have to mention Jason from The Wolseley who has been unwell. In his absence Sara and the crowd have been masterful. Jason has lost weight and won’t mind me saying he looks better for it. It may have been the illness or the fact that the “Spring” in North Africa has moved north and his dictatorship is in peril. He has given up smoking and is worried that eating will be his only solace, when I thought just keeping the others in line should be stress enough. Secretly, or not so secretly as you all know now, he prints these out and I’m sure frames them for the smallest room in the house.

Anyway enough of Jason, my next target is the Maldives. According to James Delingpole and the Times Atlas they no longer exist. I thought this was self evident, they have been holding cabinet meetings underwater recently. Does this mean that Alan Duncan is going to have to stay out of the deep end? Personally I have been donning my Bacofoil suit to avoid the aliens and regularly commuting to Atlantis for years. From there the Maldives is just a short trip, and if I stay underwater the little green men won’t see me.

 

Copyright © 2011 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.