Good afternoon.
I must start by apologising for a break in service at the end of last week. It was an electronic failure rather than human oversight: whether, like 'El Dorado', the programme was cancelled or, like Beatrix Potter, the mouse got above itself, I do not know. But I am sorry and I promise normal service will now resume. But I could be lying. You cannot see my eyes nor can you hear my voice, both reliable indicators of veracity. But in Harrow, were you lying, not about an email but about your right to claim benefits, you might be caught out. Now they can not only hear your voice on the 'phone, they can also, with your, permission, run it through a lie-detector. As Delicious Dan the Director observed,"It's an invasion of privacy. If you refuse, you're banged to rights!". He is turning into the Poirot of the technical team, you know. Phil, who, like George Washington would admit to the smallest of failures in the name of honesty, is our man balancing the rights and wrongs of this one.
I must start by apologising for a break in service at the end of last week. It was an electronic failure rather than human oversight: whether, like 'El Dorado', the programme was cancelled or, like Beatrix Potter, the mouse got above itself, I do not know. But I am sorry and I promise normal service will now resume. But I could be lying. You cannot see my eyes nor can you hear my voice, both reliable indicators of veracity. But in Harrow, were you lying, not about an email but about your right to claim benefits, you might be caught out. Now they can not only hear your voice on the 'phone, they can also, with your, permission, run it through a lie-detector. As Delicious Dan the Director observed,"It's an invasion of privacy. If you refuse, you're banged to rights!". He is turning into the Poirot of the technical team, you know. Phil, who, like George Washington would admit to the smallest of failures in the name of honesty, is our man balancing the rights and wrongs of this one.
Ken has been balancing the rights and wrongs of the 3rd runway at Heathrow and went to the village of Sipson which will cease to exist if the 3rd runway gets the go ahead. He tipped his tiny carbon toe print in the water of electoral controversy to tell the good people he doesn't think it should go ahead. Piers is the man with the orange ping-pong bats, bringing the jumbo jet of London politics safely to his docking gate.
Dramatically arriving by air from Australia, a witness who has fascinating things to tell the murder trial of Sally Ann Bowman's alleged killer. Ronke treads carefully through the legal minefield and will you be amazed.
Equally amazed, if not even more amazed, the man in row 12 at the English National Opera who, on seeing the lead tenor go sick thought "I can do that". It is like a cultural version of Roy of The Rovers as a promising lad is plucked from the stands to score the winning goal in the FA Cup Final. Metronome to the ready and baton in hand, Damien leads you to a crescendo of amazement.
Amazed you will also be as G4 becomes G1. Jasmine meets another terrific singer who has decided not to step into great shoes but to do his own thing.
Doing her own thing, because it is Monday, is Louisa. London property prices, volatility and what you can and can't believe in the papers.
London's front pages, most of which you can believe, and Chrissie's weather which, of course, you can always believe, round it all off.
Unless, of course, I am lying again. There has been an odd beeping sound during most of this last few minutes and my polygraph has been doing it's Zorro thing. And me, a good law abiding citizen or, at least, I thought I was.
We hope you'll be there when we have finished our breathing exercises, warmed up our vocal chords, and begin our own operetta which is London Tonight, at 6.
Alastair, the Wagner man and Nina, the Puccini belle.
