London Tonight Tonight

Good afternoon.
Political satire normally thrives when either Government is too strong or Opposition too weak. The brilliant Rory Bremner was at his peak when Tony Blair seemed to do little wrong, apart from the occasional war, and the Conservatives were treating the leadership of their party like an over-running yet inconclusive episode of Britain's Got Talent. David Frost came to prominence, alongside giants like Peter Cook and John Bird, when Harold Wilson walked on water and Alec Douglas Home and Ted Heath didn't. But these are stars. What made the Comedy Club so special was that it invited all comers to take to the stage and to make us laugh at the expense of those we were supposed to hold in respectful awe. This very afternoon, the House of Commons resembled a Lego tower - after my son had lost his temper and taken his boot to it - as it tried to sort out the MPs' expenses row. So how entirely appropriate we celebrate the birthday of the Comedy Club and talk to one of its first "breakthrough" beasts - the splendid Alexei Sayle.
As if in stereo, coming out of the other speaker will be Esther Rantzen. No mention of funny looking vegetables nor dogs that sing whilst frying eggs, she wants to put herself forward as an MP in the Constituency of a woman who worked in Westminster, lived in Luton but spent lots of your money sorting out dry rot.... in Southampton!
Margaret Moran, be warned - there's an Esther on the loose on our programme.
In a surreal way, that only Bozza can manage, the Mayor finds himself in South Korea, addressing the issue of climate change only to find himself under savage attack by the friends of the planet for the way he got there. Now I think a rickshaw, steamer or sturdy pair of boots may have proved inappropriate to the task and we might have missed him for too long but the carbon cloud busters have a point. Bozza has hit back with a lexicon of cyber communications that range from internet video blogging, via twittering to phone blogging. Me thinks the Mayor doth protest too much, quantitatively if not qualitatively. All I wanted was a postcard. Harris, more a Remington type-writer and loud voice man will make sense of it for you, I know.
It was Disraeli who talked about "Lies, damn lies and statistics" but who also said politicians should "never explain". I wonder how he would have explained the oddity of our "falling" crime statistics banging into a public perception that it is still dangerous and worrying out there? We've the latest numbers on the day another yob is jailed for another pointless but tragic killing. Marcus takes the dabs on this one.
People often leave things on trains and seldom get them back. But Euston lost its beautiful archway entrance and is about to get it back. Phil found it in a canal, wedged between several political manifestos and a few shopping trolleys. I remember it in its original glory and I trust they do it justice. It is up there with the roof of St Pancras and the frontage of Kings Cross, believe me.
Enough, already, I feel. Robin was going to go out but was blown away by the wind. We'll hold him down with guy-ropes in the studio so he can explain the bright and breezy state of affairs.
Papers awash with coppers wanting to feel the collars of MPs and Bex on England's World Cup hopes - I think it is more about who might host it than win it.
And that is that.
Marcus has just observed that Katie and I are doing the show tonight and muttered some celebratory observation about "the old chemistry". I hope he isn't planning a Guy Fawkes on the studio and that he is as pleased to have us both on as we are both pleased to be on.
At 6.
See you then unless we smell gun-powder or hear a clock ticking.
Alastair "rare-earth" Stewart and Katie "precious metal" Derham.