Good afternoon.
The Toyota Prius is a remarkable car. It can run on batteries or petrol, depending on the speed of the car and the road conditions. For all I know, it can sprout wings and soar, bird-like, across the skyline of our wondrous city. One was parked a little far from the kerb outside our studios, just now, and the driver of a Black Cab launched into a rant at the driver of the miracle motor. I thought it was about to morph into a boxing ring, which could prove helpful as a celebrated boxing club in the capital could soon ring time for the final round due to a lack of funds. Ben, in a smart white shirt and clip-on bow-tie, has the story.
Also morphing today, yards of black and yellow sticky tape as used by the police to mark out a scene of crime. Add an oil drum and other bits of debris and, as all you connoisseurs of modern art will know, you have a statue. To me, it looks like the head of Kendo Nagasaki, a Kent Walton wrestling idol from the 60s, but I am told it's supposed to be the first wife of a former dictator. Should you have retained the will to live, Damien will do his Brian Sewell impersonation at 6. Among his experts, he says is NOT a boring man in a grey suit but a very interesting man... in a grey suit, from the Council.
Bet there weren't many grey suits when Southend Council spent 37 grand on a staff knees-up. Think how many party-poppers and bottles of Pimms you could get for that little lot. Shame the Council is 17 million in the red. Tim Evans has taken the rate-payers final demands to the Town Hall, demanding an explanation.
No explanation for the woman who was pushing her disabled nephew across a road, only to be cut down by a bendy bus. She had crossed on a red light but we have the CCTV which suggests the driver must have seen her, and begs the question why he didn't do more to stop? Tamsin talks to the sister of a woman who survived but can no longer speak, let alone think, for herself.
Lots of thinking in the mind of Sally Anne Bowman's boyfriend who argued with the beautiful young model just hours before she was brutally murdered. Too many "what-ifs" to even contemplate.
My 14 year old son says Jimi Hendrix was the greatest ever guitarist. I am old enough to have seen Jimi Hendrix and my boy may have a point. That drink and drugs precluded Jimi becoming even greater is one of popular culture's many tragedies. A fabulous photographic celebration of a psychedelically troubled life, with Liz's finger on the shutter button.
Chrissie is terrified of birds and, because I still feel cold, we have sent her out to spend time with some this evening. To ruffle her feathers further (try to say that out loud) she will be forced to explain how you can attract them to your city garden, feed them up, and tempt the little lovelies to breed and produce even more. How cruel are we?
All of that plus London's front pages which will have been printed before we go on air and means you start with the latest news and end with stuff of a certain age.
But that is life, is it not?
Got my chocolate today, as you may have guessed.
See you at 6.
Alastair and Katie.
Alastair and Katie.
