Good afternoon.
It may be something in the water or even the tea, but there is definitely a feisty atmosphere around this afternoon which I hope will be reflected in the programme.
Boris is a breath of truth-telling, word-keeping, good-doing, fun-providing, capital-invigorating fresh air!
The Blond Bombshell remains a big-talking, band-wagon-jumping, promise-making, delivery-lacking tub of over-educated, posh hot air!
Or something lounging, elegantly in a comfy chair between these two extremes - both of which have fans in the newsroom. Worth remembering that we exist not to take sides but to shine torches of truth on what we find, leaving you, and only you, to decide.
Thus we explore the policing of buses and the provision of extra bobbies and baby-bobbies to make your dash on the 137 a safe and booze-free experience. Has Boris done anything new or has he created an omnibus of nirvana? Glen is your clippy. "Ping-ping": all change, or stay in your seats?
Getting right out of their very well upholstered seats are the good people of Eversheds law firm as they do their bit to make London a Better Place. An American friend once asked me, "What do you call 500 lawyers at the bottom of the Potomac?" (It's the river which runs through their capitol, Washington DC)
"Dunno" I said.
"A start", he said... cruel but worth spending just a moment reflecting upon. Anyway, this lot are good and we don't want them turning into bottom grubbers. Robyn celebrates their good deeds with some kids who'll benefit from them.
Who benefits from Dwain Chambers coming "clean", every pun intended, is less clear. The cynic in me says "Him". Others, on his side of the argument, say kids, because they will now see him as a role model who rediscovered the truth in the 100m dash on the Road to Damascus. Not sure, but I trust Marcus more than most to get to the bottom of it. Too many bottoms in this blog. Sorry.
Jon Gilbert is in Cannes which is nice for him. Nice is near Cannes, which is nice for Cannes because that's where the airport is. He's talking film, as is Helen because James is ill. I think James is in Cannes, which you reach by flying to Nice which, if true, is not nice. I'll find out and let you know.
What started out as a nice idea ended in hollow tragedy. A dad, who'd gone to London to buy his kid a pressie, left it on the train and then when he went back to get it ... no, you'll have to watch: words don't do it justice.
Finally, there is no justice in the fact that Salma has once again purloined the right to present What Not To Miss. I had to go and interview Willie Walsh, the Chief Executive of BA and, like a suitcase at T5, my chance was gone, never to be seen again. She deserves to be sent to Siberia.... in a lush fur coat and comely sable hat... I am warming to her again. It's my age.
Faye is in charge so some sense will cut through this juxtaposition of madness and sanity. But she has torn her jeans at the knee. I am told this is fashion. I think it was an unfortunate fall. I'll call my friend at Vogue to find out.
See you at 6,
Alastair and Salma
