London Tonight Tonight

Good afternoon, which at least means that mad dogs and Englishmen should be coming back in, shortly, having been bonkers even to go out... at noon.
Not a problem down Wimbledon way where there are no Englishmen, or women, left in the competition. Mr Murray is a proud Scot and we Scots are proud of him. Given England's tough sporting time of it, recently, we are happy to lend him as a temporary talisman but should he hold aloft the gold cup, we shall have him back like the stone of destiny. I know England's doing "alright" in the football and that our women cricketers have done "v well" recently but I am sure it will back to the norm, ere long !
If I was asked to play at Wimbledon I would say "pass", politely. The women shout too much and the men just aren't the characters McEnroe and Connors were. Nor that handsome Romanian whose name escapes me. No, the idea of wearing white and having a slav send bright yellow and deceptively hard balls at me at speeds of over 100 mph is not my idea of a fine summer pastime. Even with the best part of half a million at stake. And I am wise for there are serious health as well as sartorial issues out there. The LTA must have a "let" or a "bye" from the Department of Health because the DofH have just told the rest of us to take it easy in this heat - there are serious risks of heart failure and stroke as we nudge record levels. I'd have thought more than enough had been written and said about global warming to make this a statement of the blindingly obvious but it seems we need another reminder. "Why?", with a nice bloke from the NHS; "how?" from Glen; and "what about Wimbledon?" with Robin, who will either use the language of "persistence" or "passing spell". I'd tune in, seek out the solar topee and keep a fine glass of something nice and cool to hand.
Many of us have never quite forgiven our otherwise faultless parents for sending us to boarding school. In some cases I am sure it was because the parents couldn't stand the sight of their little darlings but in most cases it was Army, Air Force, Navy, or diplomacy calling. In many others it was class confirmation (Eton) or class aspiration (Harrow). Lewis is trying to find out why a state school in Brixton wants to offer the cold shower and dodgy house-master challenges to a new generation of kids. The charities and the parents are split.
Marcus reports on a delicious case of just desserts which involves two MPs, a certain lack of clarity and some of swampy's mates having, at last, a place to rest their feet if not take a shower. They could if they wanted to, mind you ; they just don't chose too. Order, order, I say.
Westminster Abbey is fine and complete in my humble opinion. It has emerged, however, through a milennium of transformation, of never ending morphing. However, Damien reports on what some would say could be it's crowning glory - pun intended. I'd leave it.
We've Johnny Depp talking to Vanessa which I think is brilliant and so too do most of the office.
And we may be talking to a tall, thin American pop-star who I get confused with a popular brand of foot-wear whilst others say his name has something to do with leg-garments and serpents. He is also a big tennis fan so he is probably mad, too.
I think that is that.
I am waiting for Katie. I hope she hasn't gone to Wimbledon and fallen for a man with dark eyes and more syllables in his name than you could shake a racket at. Doubt it. Probably just paused for a rest in the heat. That is why I stay in and send out for fruit.
See you at 6.
Alastair & Katie