Good afternoon.
It can only be one of those bizarre coincidences that an entirely random knife attack has robbed us all of another promising young actor - not that long ago it was a lad who had only just celebrated getting a part in the latest Harry Potter film. Tonight we tell you what we know about Ben Kinsella. The ink on his GSCE scripts barely dry, he was stabbed to death. Ben's sister , herself a bit of a soap star, speaks powerfully yet beautifully for the family. She tells us he was a young man who had already made his acting debut in The Bill and, who knows, could have become a star. But, as for too many young Londoners before him, the cold blade has resolved that we will never know. What a shame, what a waste. Harris spearheads our anger and distress.
There is little doubt the number of fatal stabbings in London would be higher were it not for the dedication and brilliance of the vast majority of NHS staff who look after us all. They've been doing it for 60 years - well, not the current lot because if they had they'd be breaking the law on retirement age but you know what I mean. As they say of the monarch, "their heirs and successors" have carried on the good work. Interesting that back in 1948 there were fewer knife and gun crimes and a lot more rickets. Even more colourful differences came to light when we went fishing in this pool of health care history. Ronke does a passing impersonation of The Lady with The Lamp.
I wrote, a moment a go, about "the vast majority" of NHS staff whilst squirting unrestrained praise in the general direction of The White Coat and Starched Cap brigade. Alas, some of them do occasionally get it wrong and, given what they trade in, when they do it can be catastrophic. We've the tale of Sarah Fox whose mum was worried about her young daughter's weight loss. Seven is a magic number and a biblical number, and seven times it was that the Fox's went to the hospital and seven times it was that they were rebuffed. Alas there is no magic nor biblical miracle in the outcome of this story but you'll have to live through it to learn from it. Glen will hold all the hands that need holding.
Incidently, I have just caught sight of the PM in the House of Commons: he doesn't look well, next to Health Secretary Alan "Buddy Holly" Johnson let alongside Harriet "Summer frock" Harman. And the woman sitting behind him seems to have an over-night bag on her lap: is someone going for a well earned rest? I only ask!
Don't know if Lucy held Pierce Brosnan's hand during "interview conditions" but a mind reader would have had an easy time of it, I daresay! She then meets Meryl Streep. It is all to do with a film version of a story loosely based upon the antics of a musical combo who, at one stage, contributed more to the Swedish economy than Volvo Cars. Mamma Mia, what am I going on about? Dunno, but here I go again.
When I saw "Big Stink" in the Big Bosses Running Order I thought of some frightful act of political chicanery or , perhaps, a new open air garlic wholesalers causing more than a little disquiet down wind . But no, it is, infact, one of London's less know ecological events that resulted in the House of Commons being evacuated as a direct result of an excess of the other sort of "evacuation" all humans are obliged to go through every day - unless you are a laxative user.
No jokes about the Commons being full of... nor that there's always a moral stink in there... no, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth from Lewis who celebrates the far-sightedness of one of Victoriana's greatest - the Master of the Queens Ablutions, Joseph Bazalgette.
By the way, Joseph's grandson, Peter, was the top man at the TV company that brought you "Big Brother". I think grandpa Joe would have been proud that the capacity for channelling vast quantities of effluent had, so successfully, crossed the generations. He'd have been flushed with his grandson's success, me thinks.
We'll talk property with Louisa, weather with Chrissie and papers among ourselves. I think it is a fine start to a great week. If it leaves you wanting more, hurrah. If it overfills you, see a doctor and say "Happy 60th!"
You may need, however, to check out Bazalgette's finest but I've no intention of intruding there.
See you at 6.
Alastair and Salma
