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27.2.09

Fri 27th Feb

Good afternoon.

I write this from the Tower Of London, gazing fearfully out of a Tudor latticed leaded window at the very spot where, among others, Anne Bullen (the Boleyn bit was an affectation by her affected father) lost her head to a French swordsman.

Mine was purely an historically anecdotal time-filler when I suggested to HM The Queen, this morning, that she might revert to Saxe-Coburg Gotha as the family name now we were so happily ensconced in the family of Europe. Marines and plain clothes security men - actually dressed in rather fine Gieves & Hawkes tweed jackets - descended upon me in a flash and it was up Borough High Road, sharp right and over Tower Bridge to William the Conquer's monstrous White Tower before I could say "I am a Stewart - distantly related along the James the First line..."

Anyway, before things went tragically pear-shaped, I had witnessed Elizabeth Mountbatten Windsor (OK: got it now) declare the new Royal British Legion HQ open but saw little after that. So we have dispatched Lewis Vaughan Jones (also distantly related along the Henry Tudor line, a Welsh war-lord who became Henry VII after giving that decrepit northerner Richard III a good seeing to at Bosworth in 1485. I'd have sold him a horse but, alas, was not there even in spirit. Three generations later we had a Scot on the English throne but for a quarter of a century we endured a Welshman. Gadzooks, as they said in those days.)

The above is not racist but said as banter. How our colleague Geraint Vincent meant it to be understood when he said "One Eskimo" was racist I am not sure. A some time pop star called, I think, Kristian Leontiou withdrew, Greta Garbo-like, to the solitude away from his brief spell in the sun of stardom. Then along came a fresh opportunity and he was signed back to the world of popular and, he hopes, profitable culture in a band Geraint couldn't bring himself to mention and which we will call, for his sake, "The Sole Inuit". Lucy, back from her Oscar glory, went to meet him. Or perhaps find him. Only time will tell and that time is 6pm.

Amanda Knox, accused of murdering Meredith Kercher from Surrey, has her fifth day in court though it has taken almost as many weeks to get to that point because the Italian lawyers are all doing other things at the same time. I wonder if the Italian Inland Revenue knows. Or even exists. Stephanie Gosk, an American reporter covering the case will bring us up to date and, if she is anything like the others who have reported for us from Perugia, we will all be well served.

Not well served were the Met by whomsoever "screens" recruits when a young man said he wanted to be a PCSO - Police Community Service Officer, officially; plastic cop to the critics. He got in and it was only when he was suspended for an alleged assault on a colleague that they discovered he had also been accused in the past of an assault on someone frighteningly younger. It is a nasty story but one which requires telling, pour encourager les autres as Voltaire said of the execution of Admiral Byng who had failed to take Minorca. Why we wanted Minorca, I am not sure, but the episode yielded a good bilingual cliché. Marcus, more of a Gunner than an Admiral, reports.

His sworn enemies, Tottenham Hotspur, are engaged in hostilities masquerading as the beautiful game - they take on ManU in the Carling Cup Final this weekend. I am told they nodded through some other side in the UEFA Cup to keep their minds clear for domestic glory but that sounds like an elaborate excuse to my rugby loving mind. We'll see - Paxo stuffs the tape machine with team profiles and Harry Redknappisms.

The Oz, back from a tea-run and now on a make-up run will craft what not to miss which won't mention the alleged peodophile who is on the run because, with luck, he won't be missed by the cops. Treatment of his thyroid condition has left him radio-active so I imagine he gives off a buzz in day-light and glows in the dark. Glenn, clad in lead apron and thick rubber gloves is either in pursuit or off to join the masons - all revealed at 6.

Papers and richly anticipated weather which is looking good, is it,not, should round if off well.

If my appeal to the Privy Council succeeds, I'll see you at 6. Otherwise it's an OB from Botany Bay next week which at least will make the Oz feel at home.

In hope and just a little expectation,

Alastair and Alex