What Not To Miss

Featured this week:

• The East Festival: http://www.visitlondon.com/events/east/
• Move It 2009: www.moveitdance.co.uk
• London Fashion Weekend: http://www.londonfashionweekend.co.uk/

London Tonight Tonight

Hi,

I'm in a foul mood - Ikea won't deliver my new bed to my new house cos it's not the same address as my billing address - obviously!! I'm moving. Grrrrrrr. Robin is doing his best to cheer me up with custard jokes (more of in a mo) I think Al needs cheering up too.. his computer's broken and it doesn't seem like the people at PC World have given him a proper diagnosis. Grumbles from his direction..

I feel his pain and am spreading the love today as I also hate trains - it takes forever to do a ten minute journey from Clapham Junction to Waterloo - even longer for the stupid bus to arrive at Waterloo to bring me to the office (if only I was Al and got chauffeur driven everywhere - not true of course - but I don't like to think of him being stuck on trains like us). The trains are stupid, stupid, stupid and so are the buses. But the trains really are bloody slow - it's a fact. Some South West Trains journeys take longer than they did before the war. I'm not surprised - and it won't surprise the American tourist on my train this morning either - who said (surprisingly loudly...) "This guy drives slower than my Grandma!" I couldn't help but nod in agreement. Phil Bayles has been dispatched to find out why so sllooooooooow!!??

Back to the custard and another angry person. Leila Deen was so mad there was nothing else for it - green custard in Peter Mandelson's face. I don't think he's been moonlighting at either PC World or IKEA - he got Leila's blood boiling over Heathrow. She's from Plane Stupid - and says he's not helping their cause. So he got slimed! I've been reliving images of Ghostbusters. Marcus has been quoting things about green slime running through Mandelson's veins. He's going to explain all and show us the pics later - and take a trip down memory lane - not to Ghostbusters - but to more of our favourite politicians getting custarded. I'm just watching the pics again and am slightly concerned that Ms Deen managed to calmly walk away from the sliming...don't people get arrested for doing things like that - cue Robin...I don't think a custarding is assault "If it was they'd be facing a custurdial sentence". I'm smiling now.

400 others are not smiling though - they're puking and pooping and it's all thanks to a certain chubby duck. I've always had Heston's restaurant in Bray on my list of places I really should get around to eating in. But it has gone down the list now the food's apparently not going down too well. First 40 people said they'd got sick after eating there - now it's 400! Heston first thought it might be sabotage - but turns out they don't think that now - what it is Tamsin Roberts will be trying to find out as the 3 Michelin starred eatery stays shut for another weekend. No credit munch there then..

What else...there are some smash and grabbers caught by CNN on camera in Oxford Street which sounds well worth a look - and listen if Big Ed's imitation during the meeting (something of a roar!) is anything to go by. There's also James with the flicks - Watchmen (which looks like a boy's things to me) and The Young Victoria (which is definitely one I'm up for but am not sure I'll be able to persuade the other half..).

Ah yes - then there's Cannon and Ball - not a pair I'm familiar with as I don't recall them making it big down under...but I'm told they were the stars of ITV in the 80s - something to do with braces - which Al has forgotten to wear today so can not demonstrate - something to do with rocking on...I'm told I should be all excited - we'll see... They're in to talk about the Best of British Variety Tour - I'm looking forward to hearing about Nookie the Bear...That should put me in a better mood.

Now I just have to sort out my stupid phone - contacts and calendar have disappeared...it just is NOT my day!

Chocolate is called for.

See you at 6.

Alex and Alastair.

Politicians under attack

You'll see a few of these on the programme tonight. But here's an early reminder of some of the politicians who've been targetted in the past..

Lord Mandelson and the Green Custard

See the full story on London Tonight at six..

Michael Jackson in London

So he's coming..

If you missed London Tonight, this is what happened in Greenwich late this afternoon..

London Tonight Tonight Thursday 5th March 2009

Hi,

It's all gone a bit Wacko Jacko here. Since we found out yesterday that the King of Pop is heading for the O2 it's all anyone's been talking about. Lucy's down there with a load of die-hard fans waiting for the man himself to make the big announcement - we were told it was going to be 4 o'clock - but as Faye rightly pointed out - it's bound to be later - hopefully it'll be before 6!
Posters all over the tube this morning have kind of given the game away but it's still going to be quite something to hear from Jackson himself that he's getting back on stage and see what kind of state he's in after rumours that he's been really ill. We're not allowed to film him with our own cameras - Al wonders whether it's 'cos he'll melt, Big Ed reckons the two cameras that will be on him will be smeared in vaseline soft-focus stylie - so we'll see - but only what his people want us to see I guess.
We had a bit of a debate about whether this is all really really exciting or not - mainly as Al doesn't seem convinced. I agree with Faye who says despite what he's been accused of in the past, he's still MICHAEL JACKSON! If we can get our hands on tickets I'll be there but won't be counting on Al for company.

While we wait for the results of that press conference the results are in on our councils. Not surprising news when it comes to Haringey - they're down to just one star after the Baby P case. They have promised to sort out the way they look after kids in the area - even though it's too late for him, it hopefully won't happen again. But Surrey council's been warned a Baby P case could happen there if they don't sort out the way they look after their children. It's one of the wealthiest counties but apparently vulnerable kids there just aren't being looked after properly. Surrey aren't happy to be in the same boat as Haringey when it comes to that one star rating. Ronke's gone to speak to them about it.

Harris is in Paris - it rhymes and everything!! Simon's been sent back to the land of the baguette to check out the Crossrail train there 'cos it's just like the one we're getting. We'll show you that and hopefully see how fast it goes!

DJ Ian Collins has been sent to Soho - the land of seedy late night offerings. The council wants to sort its image out - and try and close down the brothels etc. which survive alongside the bars, clubs and restaurants drawing people in. I'm hoping Ian won't have to sample the offerings in his report - especially not those hot dogs off the street - they do smell good when you've had a quick drinkie or three, but they really can not be good for you. Those street vendors look set for the chop along with the clip joints. I'm just hoping they'll put the bins back - getting rid of the litter would be a very good way to start cleaning up!

Oh - And I've just seen Jacko's car arrive at the O2 on the telly - there's a chopper up tracking his every move! This is going to be entertaining.

See you at 6.

Alex and Alastair.

Weds 4th March

Good afternoon.

Acting is a precarious trade. There's a lot of "resting" going on between jobs and a good deal of waiting at table or serving behind a bar whilst hoping for the agent to 'phone. Sally and Colin Knox are a lovely couple and one of their children, Rob, decided it was the trade for him. But far from warning him about "resting", they are the sort of parents who said "Go for it!" and he did. A little while back he landed a part in the latest Harry Potter movie. I wasn't there but we can all imagine his joy and his parents' pride. Who knows how far he might have gone in his chosen trade. I am just watching them, on TV, reading out a statement. Not at the joy of their son's achievement but at their quiet satisfaction that the young man who murdered their son Rob has been jailed. Sally is talking about keeping up the fight against knife crime. They are of a special breed and Lewis spoke to them before today's sentencing. Karl Bishop, the killer, will get life.... for taking Rob's.

It is a moving interview and you will get a lot from it, not least an oft' needed confirmation that, amidst the scum out there, there are good people. Colin and Sally are fine examples of the better breed.

We continue to delve into the schools crisis in London - many of you have been in touch following our report yesterday that showed 26000 not getting their first, second or third choice and 5000 not having been offered a place at all. We are expecting a Minister to join us to explain why, so we are currently doing our best to find a place for her in the studio.

Finally, we have a staggering report from Phil on the impact the recession is having on many of the welfare services so many of you either rely upon or have occasional but vital need of.

It is a serious part 1 and I make no apology for that - sometimes it is the tough stuff that matters most and we are proud to rise to the challenge.

Then there's Michael Jackson. He is in town staying at a fine hotel with fine balconies but , so far, no sign of his kids being dangled - but we've kept our cameras there, poised. He is here to make a major announcement which we think involves trying to out-do The Artist Formally Known As Prince down in The Stadium Formally Known As The Dome. Lucy covers the story and keeps her eyes peeled for whomsoever else might show up. She is a magnet, that girl.

Bozza has been flashing the cash - I talked, yesterday, about the bottomless pit that is his sofa, as he found millions for low cost housing, today, another sweep through the biscuit crumbs and Lego bits and he's found another scoop of lucre to tart up our parks. Love it! Fresh sods for Hyde Park and a lick of paint for the ageing boats on the Serpentine? Liz has the detail.

I sense , re-reading this - that I am a little less than my normal madcap correspondent. ITV has had a bad day and 600 of our colleagues will be spending more time with their tellies rather than crafting stuff for you to enjoy on yours. It is a hard day but, given we have reported on many hard days these last few months, it is unsurprising that the man in the black cape with the sharp scythe has come our way. Sad, though.

Hope you find something to move, inspire, entertain and even irritate you there.

The Oz and I will do our bit - all you have to do is watch... at 6.

Hope you can

Alastair and Alex

LONDON TONIGHT TONIGHT

Good afternoon.
It is still said that if you want your child to go to Eton you have to "put their name down" in the instant between the mid-wife creating their tummy button and the doctor slapping their bum. Having a son helps, too, though I suspect the same applies to lassies destined for Beneden, Roedean and St. Paul's Girls. But for most folk who are happy to give the state schools a go you apply in the year before they are supposed to start. "Comprehensive" was the name given to the system created in the 60s by a Labour Government with more Winchester, St Paul's and Westminster School types on board than a shadow Tory Cabinet could shake a boater at. "All encompassing" in terms of subject, ability and student - that was the idea. So it will have come as a bit of a shock to the parents and guardians of 26000 little darlings when they discovered that their off-spring had not managed to get a place at their 1st, 2nd and even 3rd choice of school! And, for a further 5000, there is so far no school at all. Now that might bring a naughty smile and cause a glint to the eyes of the Just Williams among the younger generation but their folks don't get the joke. We've the story and we've the advice. Don't fret: it doesn't involve a trip to Eton Wick or Harow - nor being measured up for a tail coat and shirt with "wings". Glen dons his short trousers and blazer to do the Tom Brown bit for you.
I have taken to wondering just how big the Governments sofa is - it seems they are always coming up with vaste amounts of money to replace even more vaste amounts that have been lost. I think the money is lost down the back of their sofa only to be found, miraculously, again alongside biscuits and bits of Lego. Bozza has just taken delivery of a cast-off settee as he has just "found" £135 million to give housing a boost in the capitol. And he, the former Tory MP for Henley, says only the public sector can rescue us from the collapse in the market. He has in common with Karl Marx unruly hair but I didn't know they had economic analysis in common, too. He'll be quoting Rousseau to the 'chavs' next, telling them to shake off their" chains" and be free again.
Phil is our man from Land of Leather checking that delivery at the City hall treasury.
Three separate deliveries - 2, 3 and 5 years ago - created a family of siblings no one wants. Merton wants to keep them together and is looking for a family with lots of love and lots of bedrooms who might take them on. It is a tall adoption order but there are really good folk out there so we are helping Merton in their hunt. Liz is our version of Dr Barnado's beautiful young sister.
Queen Victoria died a fat, bloated and bitter old thing whatever people like Richard Starkley and Norman St John Stevas tell you. She had so many children it made Merton's challenge look like one extra nipper for tea. She was in mourning for more than a quarter of a century and presided over a time of rank hypocrisy, appalling architecture and troubling colonial expansion. That said, they made some lovely stamps with her profile on and I do like the water-colours of her era. Her husband, (see "mourning" above) was a differnet kettle of fish: a dashing young German with an eye for the main chance: he left a tiny Prussian principality and became Regent of a global Empire. He was gifted and oversaw the rebuilding of the burned out House of Commons giving us the magnificence of the Charles Barry-Augustus Welby Pugin edifice that graces the north bank of the Thames at Westminster. His is the Albert Hall and the Albert Memorial; and the modern British army was dressed, drilled and structured according to his master plan. What a dude! If he hadn't died so young, more would have been done and she might have cheered up a bit. Anyway, there's a film I am looking forward to which traces Grumpies early years in His company - Lucy, more of a Young Bardot than a Young Victoria, guides us through it on the red carpet. Victoria would have even had that turned black, so how lucky are.
Rick Astley still is and is in the studio to tell us about his 80's tour - not reminiscing about something that happened thirty years ago but enthusing about what will be happening shortly to rekindle a love for the music of those days.
We've also all the news thats fit to print - or broadcast - including the seriously sad tale of the young psychopath who warned everyone he was a killer and whose mum passed on those worries - all too late for his first four victims. It is a sad, sad story.
As is Chrissie's weather, through no fault of hers.
The papers and that's it.
The Oz made the tea run and got me a chocolate biscuit. If I smile even more tonight it is in gratitude to this elegant and thoughtful co-worker I am blessed to share our sofa with. No cash, though, in our sofa. I caught her checking yesterday. Unless that is where my chocky biscuit came from.....?
See you at 6 unless salmonella kicks in.
Alastair abnd Alex

London Tonight Tonight Monday 2nd March 2009

Good afternoon.

The Oz is tired but is still sticking to her impressive Lent resolution to single-handedly collapse the economy of the Great State of Virginia. She wondered if not smoking made her tired and I ventured, au contraire, it might make her more lively: more oxygen would now be surging towards her muscles and her neurons. She glazed over. I have that effect, sometimes, when I attempt to be knowledgeable.

Phil wonders if those who had first sight of the report into how London coped with last month's cold spell gave the same reaction. It concluded in a way that would surely earn a PhD from the University of the Bleeding Obvious, that we hadn't coped too well. But the bit that really is interesting is the bit which deals with the Emergency Services, especially London's splendid Ambulance Service. They reported evidence of an inability to organise a Bacchanalian excess in a beer factory. They also say more buck was passed, or bucks were passed, than at the annual convention of "The Not Me Guv - Wasn't My Fault Society". And what they heard when they asked local Councils to clear the snow so that they might save lives, will tempt you to tear up your Council Tax demand when it drops on your doorstep. I am not inciting law-breaking but rather offering what might prove to be a reasonable defence if you took such extreme action having been kept waiting for an ambulance last month.

No delay in the ambulance taking Jade Goody from her hospice to hospital and then on to yet another hospital. Jade has a lot of supporters and publicity but she hasn't got a lot of time. Her new husband may get a little "time", at her Majesty's pleasure, if he is convicted on a charge of assault. If acquitted, of course, he won't. Marcus keeps an eye on her prospects for you, and his.

Working about as well as our anti-winter-weather public services, has been the system for vetting people who want to work with children. The vast majority of them - teachers, care-workers and sports centre types - are absolutely fine. But because it is kids we need to be doubly careful, don't we? So when a German on the run from the sex crime police in Cambodia shows up at Northwick Park Hospital, looking to work on the kiddies' ward, you'd have hoped the checks were meticulous. They were, and yet he slipped through the net. Glen exposes a fundamental flaw in the system which we hope will never be repeated but we are not holding our breath.

Nor is Kirstie holding her's for a recovery in property prices, but she assesses how many swallow-like splurges of extra lending might make a housing market spring.

Man U beat Spurs in the Carling Cup which is sad if you are a Spurs fan and predictable if you are a "Red". No goals in 120 minutes ((45 x 2) + (15 x 2) I'm told by the Oz and Dishy Dan, who says he's more of a rugby boy)) so the drama that is The Penalty Shoot-Out unfolded before expectant eyes. The Man U goalie reached for his I-Pod. Not, I am told, to while away the moments whilst the Spurs man did his best; nor to seek the calming influence of Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb"; nor even to enjoy the ecstatic stimulant that is The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World's "Start Me Up!"
Lewis, also a bit more of an oblong sphere merchant, truth to tell, reveals all. Well not all, though the rating boost would be welcome! He EXPLAINS all including why the FA couldn't care less...

We meet a woman who sailed both ways round the world. Both ways? Clothed and unclothed? Ah! East and West. She might have saved someone en route but that is a little unclear, as must have been her second journey as she thought "Haven't I been here before .... but going the other way?"

Lucy meets Jennifer Aniston at the stomping ground of her life that is The Red Carpet. "Marley and Me" seems to be the title but I am not sure if that is grouting, glaze and Marley Tiles or "No woman, No Cry" Bob Marley. I'll certainly be tuned in.
The Oz is looking at clips of it, right now, but is yet to laugh. Probably not a comedy then; or, if it is, perhaps not a very good one.
"It looks funny", she suddenly says. "It's got a dog in it", she adds. Not what I would call a boost on the way to the Oscars but we'll see and you can be the judges.

Chrissie judges a fair forecast and the papers - getting thinner it seems to me - will do their best to compete for your fleeting attentions.

Faye thinks the best story of the day is the claim by Heston Blumenthal - (second name, family; first name, a nod to the Services on the M4 - HONEST! ) - that the food poisoning at his top-rated gaff in Bray was sabotage. We joked about "Spike" Rhodes and "Foul Mouth" Ramsey helping the fuzz with their enquiries but it sort of faded.... like Faye's elegant jeans. I think the fashionistas call it "distressed" which is what The Big Boss will be if I don't finish, publish and be damned.

So I will.

See you at 6

Alastair and Alex

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

Tues 26th Feb

Good Afternoon one and all...

If you were asked to draw up a list of 'Things That Make Britain British' , talking about the weather would be up there. Fondness for a cup of tea would be included, no doubt. And, I think, a propensity for queuing. Queuing to get into Wimbledon, while drinking tea from a flask and chatting with perfect strangers about how 'mild' it is would probably be about as British as you could get.

Sometimes though, wherever you're queuing, people push in. What happens next? Opinion is divided here in the office. Some people reckon most of us would say nothing. (Out loud - that is. They'd moan about it under their breath or with their mates, after the event.) Others would humbly say something along the lines of "I'm terribly sorry, but there's a queue". No one, however, has suggested getting their boyfriend to beat up the other person.

That's what Antonette Richardson did at the Merton branch of Sainsbury's last year. Only, she got her boyfriend to beat up the wrong man. A man called Kevin Tripp, who later died in hospital. Now, we're not going to judge her actions here. We don't need to. A jury found her guilty today of manslaughter. Her boyfriend had already owned up. It does leave you asking yourself though - just where does that level of aggression come from?

The story will get you thinking, I'm sure.

We also want you to think about our report on truancy. Apparently inner London boroughs are among the worst in the country for numbers of schoolchildren just being 'children'. One suggested solution is to text the children's parents, tipping them off that they didn't turn up for classes. But should any of the education budget be used in this way? Watch the full report and send us your thoughts later.

Plus there's a genuine breakthrough from Surrey. Anyone who gets stuck in the twice-daily traffic jam that is the A3 in Hindhead will have been following progress on the huge tunnel being built to alleviate the problem. Well... drum-roll, please... the two teams tunneling towards each other met up today, underground. At least, they're supposed to have met up. Here's hoping everyone was tunneling in the right direction.

There's a report on bad behaviour on trains.

And Simon Harris will be in the studio to talk us through the jaw-dropping sum being set aside for security at the Olympics... and the jaw-dropping sum being set aside in case the first jaw-dropping sum runs out.

And then there's Glen. Now, I don't think he'd mind me saying he's not exactly a giant of a man. (Intellectually, yes. And as an all round decent chap, most certainly. But, in terms of 'suit size', there are bigger people.) And, when I asked him a moment ago 'Glen, when did you last go to the gym?', he looked a bit confused, thought a bit and then replied 'Er, never. I don't think I've ever been to the gym'*. So, who better to meet up with one of the toughest actors in Hollywood for a bit of personal training...?

You wouldn't want to miss that, now, would you? (Ed - a quick clue to the actor - I pity the fool who doesn't watch that)

See you at SIX.

Ben & Alex

* Oh all right, the last time I went to the gym, was when I took a wrong turning.

A Belated London Tonight Tonight Wednesday 25th February 2009 - Sorry!

Good afternoon.

Drinking, smoking, swearing, fat-foods, fast-foods, betting and speeding. These are among the many things people consider giving up for Lent. Despite being raised as a Catholic, I do not go along with it - like New Year's resolutions, they are token gestures made in a fleeting moment of guilt. No, I like acts of resolve rather than assertions of resolution. So I will continue to smoke, eat fat- and fast-foods and bet .... from here, via Easter, even until eternity. I haven't drunk for ages and I really do do my very best not to speed apart from when I am trying to get to the last luxury before my family closes in on the goodie in question.

However, for London, I would like to propose an under-taking for Lent - can we all collectively give up violent crime and acts of inhumanity? And, if the next 40 days go well, stick to it? That way people wouldn't need to import vile and violent weapons like the "hand-spikes" we report on tonight: gloves with foot long blades attached - a cross between Freddy Kruger's foul finger nails and the bits that extended out of the Wolverine's hands in X-Men. They exist, are available on the internet, and attempts have been made to import them to an address in London. Customs intervened, thank goodness; but we ask why, in the first place? Tamsin, more of an elbow length, white glove girl, wonders what the world is coming to.

There is goodness out there, too, however: some kids found a newborn baby, wrapped in a plastic bag, in a stairwell. They did the right thing and the babe is making slow but steady progress. Hard to imagine what is going through a young mum's mind right now but the Boys in Blue don't want to chide her, they want to find her as they have fears for her well-being. Help Marcus help them at 6.

I've never liked the expression "they behaved like animals" because many animals behave much better than many humans. However, some are seriously unpleasant like the one who inflicted an injury on Roger the horse. But thankfully some of The Good Guys brigade came to his rescue and he is now doing his bit to put a little equestrian sunshine into the lives of some disabled and under-privileged children. Liz cries, Hi Ho Silver! and then re-phrases it Hi Ho Roger! as she dons her "jodhs" and boots and rides off into the sunset of a better place.

Tim O'Toole is taking the western extension of the District line to the starter point of Crossrail and heading for Heathrow and the USA. He's had enough of London and London Underground: in this, me thinks, he is not alone but, unlike him, the rest of us haven't been running it for 6 years. He is just a Yank who wants to go home, he says. But how come Bozza has let him slip through his fingers and why, if Tim just misses the prairies and amber skies, didn't Bozza set the blood-hounds of succession loose some months ago? Harris, tempted to utter a plea for "anarchy on the Underground", curbs his revolutionary zeal to seek a sensible answer.

The Oz has been to see Clive Owen, a handsome actor I remember from a gambling movie called, I think, Casino: he has a new movie and the Oz is quite taken though she also plays the part of matchmaker in her conversation. It gets close to the line but the Oz stays south of the latitude above which lies sin. That's a relief.

Papers will record the death of David Cameron's little boy - tastefully, I hope; Chrissie will predict with elegance and authority - it's what she does.
And I will attend.

Faye, incase you thought I had forgotten, is part pirate, part Dandino and part Black Shirt today. No thigh-slapping yo-ho-ho yet and not a Fascist cell in her lovely frame. So her wardrobe must be a tribute to the confusion impending motherhood can bring. Or she has given up for Lent...

See you at 6.

Alastair & Alex

London Tonight Tonight Tuesday 24th February 2009

Good Afternoon to you...

It has to be a bit of a quickie this afternoon as, for one reason or another, we've got a bit behind. To be honest we got a bit distracted with talk of babies, baby names and flipping pancakes.

Which raises the first question of the day - what's everyone giving up for Lent? Is anyone giving anything up for Lent? If not out of religious purity then to prove you can do it... Or even as yet another excuse to give that diet a go. Ken (one of the two editors of our lunchtime and late bulletins) told me he's thinking about giving up chocolate. And ice cream. And crisps. I'm not going to comment on whether he needs to be dieting but that could be one hell of an Easter Sunday. Alex is also going for it - not only is she giving up the fags, she's also looking to pack in her slothful ways by joining a gym. Now, there's dedication. We wish them, and anyone else, all the will power they need.

Okay - on with the programme.

We'll be hearing Terry Lubbock's reaction to the news that Essex Police have apologised for the way they handled their inquiry into the death of his son, Stuart. You'll remember he was found dead in Michael Barrymore's swimming pool in 2001. No one has ever been charged with his murder and an investigation by the IPCC has found that Essex police didn't do the very best job. In fact, some evidence went missing and the evidence that didn't go missing wasn't assessed properly.

Meanwhile, Boris Johnson has been the subject of an investigation by ethics watchdogs. They wanted to know why he phoned the Conservative Home Affairs spokesman, Damien Green, on the day he was arrested by police looking into alleged leaks from the Home Office.... Did the Mayor of London cross any lines in doing so? We'll have their verdict.

We'll be asking for your verdict on a new statue of the Queen Mum that was unveiled by her daughter today. Half the royal family turned out for the occasion - as did our cameras.

Speaking of mothers, we'll be helping a 48 year old Londoner to find his. He was abandoned in a stairwell in Golders Green when he was just a few hours old. Now, blood tests suggest he may have Scandinavian heritage. Was his mother an au pair who found herself pregnant when she didn't want to be? Despite all his efforts - and those of a private eye - David Stevenson has never traced the Mum he never knew. Can you help him?

We'll also be talking to Ned Boulting about Arsenal's chances against Roma at the Emirates Stadium in tonight's first leg of their Champions League clash.

And we'll be talking to the legendary Motown singer, who's a bit of a legend in her spare time... Martha Reeves.

Seriously, why would you miss it?

See you at SIX.

Ben & Alex.

Fri 19th Feb

Hi,

Until yesterday only one teenager had been stabbed to death in London this year - one too many already. But considering six kids were killed in the same period last year - something to take positives from. Sadly, that all changed last night when a 19 year old and an 18 year old were killed within 3 hours of each other. Glen Goodman's going to be telling us what happened. We'll also be talking about what happens when people who've been involved in violence in the capital rock up at our hospitals. Doctors say a lot of people are lying about how they ended up with a bullet lodged in them or a gaping stab wound. Big Ed dramatised for us in the meeting - Victim A: "I fell on a poker" Doc: "But I just x-rayed you and there's a bullet in your arm..."

Then Nick Wallis is going to be teaching us about what kids are being taught in school. A bunch of students have been asked to write about the July 7th bombings - but from the perspective of the bombers.... That particular lesson's been scrapped now - but he's going to be telling us why it was thought to be a sensible exercise in the first place.

There's a parking tale tonight - but not as we know it. For once we can park our cars for free! The lovely people of Kensington and Chelsea (I'm sucking up you see...) are trying to tempt shoppers away from the likes of Westfield and away from trying to pinch pennies and back into the shops. They're going to see if free parking does the trick - if they throw in a shopping spree in Harvey Nicks I'm there!

Another place I'd quite like to be is LA - but it's probably for the best - I'd just trip on the red carpet, try and snog Brad Pitt and then make off with a goody bag and a gold statue. It's best left in the professional hands of Miss Lucy Cotter who has had more than a couple of star turns herself this week and probably deserves an award statue of her own! She's checking out the red carpet and taking us behind the scenes of one of the main contenders Slumdog Millionaire. It will be the glamourous highlight of the evening I'm sure.

Then there's more movie magic from the one and only James King. Am interested to hear his take on Confessions of a Shopaholic - you'll remember Lucy met the star Isla Fisher and Al and I met the author Sophie Kinsella earlier in the week - Al was very taken with her and her gorgeous little boys who'd turned up in the studio with her - properly dressed and very well behaved. I was very taken too obviously - but was distracted by her gorgeous premiere frock and fab Louboutins! Anywho - James is going to give us his view on the flick (which I loved but can't imagine Al would) he's also going to talk us through Gran Torino - which for some reason I thought was about cars..but considering it's a Clint Eastwood directing and starring type outing I don't suppose it is - I'll leave that one to James.

There's also What Not To Miss - and you won't want to miss the teddy bears!

See you at 6.

Alex & Alastair.

Thurs 19th Feb

Good afternoon.

My eldest son Alex is a post-graduate in English at Oxford University and has been known to forcefully throw a shoe at the TV when infinitives are split - "duck! It should have been 'forcefully to throw!"

He is also a stickler for other rules of grammar - he has a temporary job in a cafe and, when an American customer who'd been kept waiting a tad ( as THEY say) , stormed up to him and said "I'm leaving! You either need more staff or less customers!" he politely apologised but corrected her suggesting they needed "fewer customers". His is a terrific little cafe and I am sure the only living creatures to occupy it are staff and customers. No caged birds nor cats, curled up on the window ledge. And certainly no cockroaches. Not so in a greasy-spoon on the Leyton High Road. Alas, for them and hurrah for their customers, the Environmental Health brigade found these resilient little monsters and have said "No more bacon sarnies nor tea from here!". Getting rid of the flat brown horrors may prove very difficult. It is widely believed that, in the event of a thermo-nuclear strike, the sole survivors would be cockroaches and Keith Richards, lead guitarist of the Rolling Stones who would also appear to be one of God's indestructibles. Anyway, Ronke has the "find" and we'll ask her to keep an eye on the "cure".

Google is a noun that has become a verb as the corporation straddles the earth. To assist in it's straddling it has created Google Earth - not an assertion of empire but a very useful tool for finding anywhere on the planet apart from the White House, and a few other sensitive spots, that have been blotted out. Can't see Al Qaida relying on Google Earth should they plan the ultimate US outrage but I guess it is another stable door worth keeping shut. They, that's Google not Al Qaida, have, of late , refined GE to "Streetview" which involves a device that looks like it has come off the Dr. Who set on a budget-cutting day - a pole, with a camera on top, sticking out of a van. But it records not only No 31 Acacia Avenue but all the homesteads on that urban thoroughfare and every other street it can navigate. The detail is amazing - front-doors, dustbins, yards and gardens - nothing escapes it's Big Brother peering. But now the citizenary , clutching it's collective copies of the European Act of Human Rights and it's neatly ironed copies of the Daily Telegraph, is fighting back. "My cat's privacy has been invaded!" bellowed bruised of Belsize Park. "My lace curtains are there for a purpose!" hectored het-up of Hampton Wick. The protests are legion and Harris, who has the cell-phone numbers of every MP but keeps his own address a secret, is on the case. Perhaps Google will try to buy him off by asking for a portfolio of his finest aerial photography but I know he is not for sale.

Also on a pole and certainly not looking anything like something off the set of Dr. Who is Abi Titmuss. I have read much about her but in private and discrete moments. Now I am to meet her, in person, in the studio. I am glad the Oz will be there too. Her previous claims to fame have not always been of the most prudent nor even savory type. But she is an actress and she has won an award. And, now, she is to tour in a comedy. My only thought is how much thought did her agent and father confessor give to her casting as a pole-dancer? Leopards and spots, type and cast, dog and trick are just six words which come to my mind but, dear reader, mine is an open mind and I am keen that doubt and benefit also collide as we approach this interview.

Lucy, I have no doubts about. We are so lucky, as I honestly believe are you, that she is our entertainment correspondent. Her performance at the Brits last night was brilliant - she talked to everyone, she performed live and she even caught a minute with THE winner of the night, Duffy, with about 15" notice! Tonight, how little Miss Lovely prepares for her next great adventure -The Oscars in LA. And if last night's dress is anything to go by, you should all be glued to the screen!

Two odd bits of urban planning to end with - do not fall asleep at the mention of urban planning! One is an attempt at a cull of the blind and partially sighted in Sloane Square and on Exhibition Road. Told you it mattered. Liz will explain why a theory, borrowed from Scandanavia, to improve road safety could tidy up our streets only to subsequently litter them with the ranks of the wounded, partially sighted and blind folk I mentioned above.

The other bit of planning sees a fine town in Buckinghamshire, which boasts one of our finest Girls' Public Schools, turn semi-pimp. Well certainly just "sub" semi-pimp. It began with a ban on kissing by Virgin Railways, (an irony in itself I thought), but has escalated to an encouragement to throw away some of our morals. This sensitive subject is in the hands of Glen and I hope, unlike in the opera, his tiny ones aren't frozen in shock.

Maybe Chrissie can tell us. Perhaps we'll read about it on the front pages of London's papers. My money is on Duffy still taking pride of place but I am usually wrong.

Finally Phil is troubled - he mounted a search for his wellies yesterday only to be submerged in four centuries of regal mud in St. James Park. Today, the Big Boss has asked him to go to a farm where there is a planning row. "But the manure could fly!" he voiced as a reasonable concern, in words to that effect. BB wouldn't budge and Phil, fearfully, headed off to Watford asking where he might buy protective clothing that extended beyond his feet.
He is a man of real merit.

The Oz is reading about pancakes on the Independent website - Shrove Tuesday? 5 days away! But do the Australians go for maple syrup or the more proper sugar and lemon juice? I hope I am invited to find out.

See you at 6.

Alastair and Alex

London Tonight Tonight Wednesday 18th February 2009

Good afternoon.

Harris has a bad leg and is threatening to go home. The Oz has gone to get tea. Faye has fallen out with her midwife. Phil is wandering around muttering about having lost his wellies. Ken is whistling a curious mixture of "I'm forever blowing bubbles" and "Spinning Around".
All of the above and more are relevant to our programme tonight, I just wanted you to know the pressures under which I work.

First Harris and the leg: I am concerned about the leg but more concerned that he is threatening to go home. If it is that serious he should go to hospital, a doctor or a physio. Going home is dealing with the symptoms not the real problem. His report tonight may have influenced this error of analysis. In the last 24 hours, there have been at least three shootings and two stabbings which remain, so far, unsolved. And 10 of Enfield's finest have been collared for allegedly handling stolen goods. Meanwhile, the very men and women, charged not with these crimes but with the management of their solution, are meeting at the Met Police Authority examining their navels as they muse over the now seriously whiskery question of whether or not the Met is institutionally racist.
I abhor racism but I also abhor people banging on with redundant verbiage in a vacuous fashion about what has become an abstract concept whilst real bad stuff is going down on their beat... Maybe that's why Harris really wants to go home: deep frustration rather than dodgy tib' and fib'.
Tune in at 6 and see if we managed to keep him off the bus and on the job. I think we'll win and I think you'll be well served by this master of inquisitive but never cynical journalism.

The Oz and the tea run: if, on her brief journey to the tea-shop, (it's called Butty Boys for some quite incomprehensible reason), she were to chance upon a person who had passed out, dropping a bag to their side which proved to be full of beer-vouchers, I have not the slightest doubt that she would attend to the person's needs and make sure the bag of dosh was secure, pending his or her full recovery. I think you'd do the same. Indeed, I think most people would. Sad, then, that when a little old lady in Enfield, going about her business which may or may not have involved a tea-run, chanced upon all of the above, she apparently lifted the bag of dosh and did a runner. Sad that. Sadder for her, it was all captured on CCTV - so clearly, dear reader, so very clearly! Jon is in a race against time - will the cops get to her before we get to air at 6? Tune in to find out who wins. You'll either have the full, grubby details or a lawyerised version in which we'll try to say "alleged" more times than the Oz says "gu-day" of a day.

Faye and the midwife - a case of "the computer says No" I am afraid. Faye, (jeans, blue pin-striped shirt and shoes the Oz was sure were Chanel but Faye says no, a £35 special from Office) was due an appointment and an IT glitch screwed it up. Officialdom in the form of lots of starch, billowing blue cotton and a passing resemblance to Hattie Jacques, argued with her attempt to re-book: "Her" being the patient, tax payer and excited mother to be. Officialdom: can't live with it but CAN live without it. Officialdom told a lovely couple their precious baby, who needed a heart transplant at 28 days, couldn't have one because no little soul, short of two months of age, can legally become an organ donor. Ergo, no new heart for little Sara. But her parents and her doctor were made of sterner stuff - enjoy the delicious outcome with Liz and consider a campaign to ease the challenge Sara's parents, and others, face.

Phil and the wellies - it's all about draining the lake in St. James' Park. I claimed Henry VIII had established it - Faye thought later and I think it is a score draw but with her winning on penalties. HVIII bought the land, his flame-haired daughter Lizzie, The Virgin Queen, tarted it up, but weird and wonderful James I(England) VI(Scotland) drained the park and created a lake. He, being the exotic dear that he was (if you are over 18, read the history in private) put some of the oddest things imaginable there. This may have attracted a pelican from Southend who is now also resident. Apparently they found a lot of wedding rings last time which prompted the Oz and I both to say "that old trick, again". Phil, if he finds the wellies, will see what else they find this time.

Finally, Ken (West Ham -"I acknowledge no equal") and the songs: he wants the entire Upton Park squad to enter our Search For Stars competition to prove his point that there is SOME talent in his team... that's up to The Big Boss, to be frank, Ken. Ken is not alone, however, in enjoying the musical merits of Miss K. Minogue who is hosting the Brits tonight. Lucy, in a decision devoid of logic from Ken's and my point of view, got the gig.

Chrissie has the weather, we have the papers and I have run out of space.

Join us, if you will, at 6. "Nice tea, Oz: thanks".

Alastair and Miss Darjeeling.

London Tonight Tonight Tuesday 17th February 2009

Good afternoon.

I remain despondent due to the spectacular lack of spectacles which led me to stumble on a couple of occasions last night for which I apologise. "Get a lite", I thought the Oz messaged me, in a loving and friendly fashion. "A lite?", I thought. Does she want a match, but can't spell? "...a LIFE" I now realise is what she wrote. This doesn't look good. Anyway, here we go.

Harris, I know well, so I have no doubt that it was he who just debated with Faye ("Oh dear, what can I do? Baby's in black and I'm feeling blue") as to whether he should do an in vision "bong" or a voice over "bong". These things - our headline pitches - matter. They are, to us, as the Diet of Worms was to Christians of the Middle Ages. His sales pitch for your attention will involve a wall and the question of whether a man, who has spent the bulk of his adult life behind four of them will, shortly, depart via a gate rather than over one... His subject also spent some time in Rio when he should still have been spending time at Her Majesty's Convenience. I speak, of course, of the Great Train Robber Ronnie Biggs.
Actually the train wasn't that great - it was a Class 45 Diesel Electric but the scale of the theft and the audacious nature of the heist earned it the moniker "great". Ronnie is dying but, as Bob Dylan wrote, "he that is not busy being born, is being dying" so it doesn't make him unique. No, Ronnie is within an "arm of the law's" length of meeting his maker, and his son Michael will tell you, from our studio, why he thinks enough is enough. We'll then ask if you agree.

You may or may not agree with a judge who faced one of those King Solomon moments. A father, who had been accused but never convicted, of harming a child fathered another, only for Social Services to "confiscate" the child and put it up for adoption. The man and his partner appealed and the judge stood by Social Services. Now they feel it is a case of "Damned if they did, and damned if they didn't" but, as I said, the judge stood by them. Give ear to the aggrieved couple and make your own minds up. It is a real conundrum but Ronke will guide you through it.

Glen, I am told, will do a "short" piece to camera about Jade Goody. If I had said that, The Big Boss would have accused me of being heightest but it was Faye so, nah nah na nah nah, that's OK. Jade, like Ronnie, is close to death but never robbed a train. She did appear in The Great TV Horror that is Big Brother but other than that her record is clean. Nevertheless, her sweet innocent life draws to a close. She wants to marry her lover in London first, and has chosen the hotel where all this will happen. Glen will rise to his full stature to deliver a touching and sensitive tribute to this poor woman's plight and plans.

The plight of Windsor fire station is also in our plans for coverage tonight. I stood there on the night it caught fire - the evening the Duke of York proved he was more than a golfing playboy, and the night the Queen, wearing wellies and a head-scarf, wept quietly as centuries of what to us was history and to her was her family's prized possessions were threatened by fire. Now they want to cut back on the station. If I was the person in charge, I'd tread very carefully. Few know, but capital punishment is still on the statute books for arson of HM Docks and interfering with the line of succession. Should there be another blaze and should Prince Edward's toy boat or rubber duck go up in smoke, I think a case could be made. And if the Royal master bedroom caught even a whiff of smoke, it would be on with the black cap and off to that place of execution where a person would be hanged by the neck until... well you know where this is leading.
Also Sir Elton John lives nearby and I don't even want to go there... tantrums and tiaras would be as nothing to what would unfold should any of Elton's various collections become ashen. Liz, who likes a man in uniform, will try and pay attention to the arguments. We stand ready to hose her down.

Ben is going to play Paper, Scissors, Stone with a Robot. Or possibly Crown and Anchor with someone called Robert. My eyes are glazing over in so many ways.
I will end by urging you to join Lucy as she gets the full Jerry Springer treatment as the former Mayor of Cincinnati explains how he is going to be a troubadour barrister in a musical that celebrates the Windy City. I think he has lipstick on his cheek but, again, the eyes, dear reader, the eyes - Lucy denies all but is all of a glow.

The Oz has just brought me tea. If I see a pair of slippers and a brochure about retirement homes, our burgeoning friendship will crash like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Windsor... and there will be no firemen, as you now know.

See you at 6... well at least I'll be squinting in your direction, as the Oz holds my white stick just out of shot.

Alastair and Alex.

London Tonight Tonight Monday 16th February 2009

Good afternoon.

I have broken my glasses and am fearful of making a range of schoolboy errors. Bear with me.
In the Olympics, men do not do synchronized swimming and women do not do boxing. I therefore assumed that the lack of spectacles had led me to understand that the Olympics Minister Tessa Jowell wanted to change that. After all, those sports have little enough money for those who have traditionally, in gender terms, given their all in pursuit of precious metal in those disciplines; and the roads of London, come 2012, will be quite busy enough without extra buses full of manic supporters of groups of men who can twiddle their toes whilst floating, upside down, in five meters of water... let alone, a dose of double deckers, groaning under the weight of lasses who like nothing better than seeing members of their own fair sex bringing paralysis to the solar plexis of another fair maid. But, No. Focus has not alluded me - it is what she wants and we will ask her why, having first heard from Harris, who wants close formation aerobatics introduced, asap.

Again, I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief when I thought I saw a suggestion that London property prices were recovering. It nestled, neatly in my paper, alongside reports from the CBI that this recession would last forever, having left us all, our children and our grandchildren, each owing a cool trillion in taxes. But, no, it is true according to RightMove.com. To make sure, we have asked Kirstie to pop along and give us the definitive view.

My third example of possible ocular deficiency was my understanding that we were doing a piece on the film of a book about addiction to shopping - "Shopaholic" it seemed to be called. Now, call me out of touch or old fashioned but have we not been reporting upon the demise of the high street, the collapse of Woolworths, the bankruptcy of the Icelandic firm Bauger that owns what was left of our shopping centres? Who, in their right mind, would publish and even make a film of such a book in the current climate? Dear reader, you read a-right: like St Peter, I hear the cock' crow a third time as my denials of a truth are exposed. The book has indeed been published and has now been made into a movie just as we all hit Depression Road, via Recession Row. I wish them well. It is a good book and we will meet it's authoress, Sophie Kinsella. And, according to Lucy, it is a good film - she has seen it. The Oz says she went to see it this afternoon... odd, I was working.
Me thinks the Oz was indulging in a little retail therapy herself under cover of "research". She certainly blushed as she walked past me on the way back into the newsroom as I took coffee with a chum. He wondered who she was, and I wondered where she'd been. And then we returned to the hi-art of West Ham, the micro-tactics of Crystal Palace and the post-Cold War prospects of Chelsea FC... The life I lead.

Two final temptations for you - our Search for Stars continues. I have been excused a role due to the lack of specs - I might confuse an air-raid siren with a basso profundo, or the popping of aerated plastic wrapping with a tap dancer. I am not to be trusted until ocular clarity returns tomorrow.

And then there's Robin - he has a sore throat. I think it is God's punishment for his having inflicted so much cold and dampness upon us all these last few weeks. He must pay the price and, in good time for spring, his dulcets will return.

Faye, (grey top, grey cardy, black trousers - at least that is what I think I see though I suppose it could be akin to Joseph's "coat of many colours" as I may have lost colour perception as well as focus) - is very excited about the programme, as is the Big Boss. I just hope I have been reading the same notes as them. I am excited, too, I just hope it's about the right things.

Only 6 will tell.

Join me and the Oz, unless she is off to give the economy another final touch on the tiller before tea...

Alastair & Alex

Friday 13th(!) Feb

Good afternoon.

To a scout, it's the "woggle"; to a sailor, "bell-bottoms"; for medics, "stethoscope and white coat"; and with city types, it used to be "a bowler and brolly". Sartorial branding is important: you wouldn't want to ask a scout to do brain surgery nor a consultant to do a sheep-shank, would you? Ergo, the identifying "kit" to help you ask the right thing of the right person. The "brolly", or umbrella, I imagine was a nod to our consistently inclement weather. But the logic of the bowler in this unique combination is beyond me. A curiously British version of the American "derby" hat, as worn by Paul Newman in "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", it replaced top hats among gentlemen riding to the hut who had got fed up losing their toppers to long-hanging branches - not as fed-up, perhaps, as the foxes who lost a lot more to low hanging hounds. But why in the city? Anyway, my personal experience of the bowler is that my dad (he gets around - he was flying Gloucester Javelins in yesterday's blog) wore one when, as a serving officer in the RAF, he "flew" a desk for three years at the Ministry of Defence. I think he was a spy with "stock-broker" as his under-cover "legend" but that is probably a fantasy of mine. Why Robin will be wearing one at the end of the programme will become as clear as a winter's night but you'll just have to wait. It will be worth it.

Whether the NHS's mighty, pan-England, number-crunching, file-collating, patient-organising computer is worth the £12 Billion it has cost will be less clear when Glen, an aficionado of the abacus and quite anti even the pocket calculator, hears from the London hospital boss who says it is a costly nightmare. 40 extra IT-problem solving staff and fewer patient appointments were not, I am sure, what the NHS managers had in mind and they are not being seen at The Royal Free as an unexpected bonus. The name Royal FREE has a certain irony, I think you'll agree, when you hear our witness explain how much it is costing him to deal with a computer which is about as welcome as food poisoning at Christmas.

It is to be hoped that Zorro the Zebra shark from Belgian will be a little more welcome by the "lady-sharks" of London's exquisite aquarium. He is a bit of a Casanova among sharks - the Dirty Den of the deep - and has been putting the fear of God into the "lady-sharks" of Bruges, or Brussels, or wherever he was swimming before. (Did you know sharks have to keep moving, all the time, or they sink and drown?) Anyway, given it is Valentine's Day I hope Zorro has brought some of those lovely chocolates his mother-country is renowned for else his ardour may be seriously cooled. Lewis, the matinee idol of Mumbles, is our Mayor of Amityville.

We've quite a bit of football that seems to involve a dutchman who is a big Gouda in Russian and about to hold sway over The Bridge; Al Fayed's lot crossing the Severn Bridge, assuming it has re-opened; and bubbles being blown on Teeside. If you are a fan, you'll understand that lot and if you are not, you won't, in your bemusement, care.

The family of Jean Charles De Menezes do care deeply that, yet again, but probably for the last time, they have been told no-one will face charges over the killing of their son. Move on? You couldn't, could you? Marcus brings closure to our coverage if not to the family's grief.

No grief in our film review which involves a hamster called Rhino who is a stalker-esque fan of a dog on tele. I've seen it and love it but Robbie may demur - if he does, there'll be a fight. The Oz and I are both total softies for animals and text each other about the best funny animal pictures in the papers. I've just realised how sad that sounds but it keeps us happy and Orange in profit. And the other film is Hotel for Dogs - about which I know nothing but sense it is all in the title.

The Oz will also do a What Not To Miss, which is, in itself, not to be missed. Robin, I've mentioned. The papers, I haven't - so I will: we'll have the front pages of all three unless there's a strike, a paper shortage or the Russian's gone missing.

And we'll have the latest from the compelling trial of Foxy Knoxy and her Italian lover, charged with killing poor Meredith Kercher. The trial only happens on Fridays because one of the lawyers is an MP in Rome and is tied up, Monday to Thursday, passing laws no one pays any attention to, given what I know of Italy and Italians. And we think we've got trouble with our lot!

That should set you up for a wonderful weekend.

See you at 6 - I hope!

Alastair and Alex

London Tonight Tonight Thursday 12th February 2009

Good afternoon.

The best politicians are great word smiths: Churchill, Disraeli, Michael Foot. Many are tremendously well educated - Cameron was described by his tutor at Oxford as the brightest student of politics he had ever taught; Harold Wilson and Enoch Powell were Professors shortly after they were old enough to vote. So when Boris went off on a verbal tirade at the Chair of the Home Affairs Select Committee you might have expected some literary lightening - a verbal Vesuvius, a classical cacophony of luscious illiteration. No. He apparently used the "F" word ten times, and popped in a two syllable description of bovine excrement for good measure.
No "terminological inexactitude" here - he was straight to the point, with a flourish and frequency of which Chaucer would have been proud. I mention "terminological inexactitude" because it was what Churchill quickly coined as an alternative to "the lie" when reminded by the Speaker that MPs can't accuse one another of not telling the truth. MPs just don't, in the House of Commons. Yeah, I know: difficult to stomach but there you go.
So, was Bozza a little economic with the "verite" as a senior Civil Servant once admitted in court when conceding he hadn't been fulsome with the truth, or did he feel he was simply wrongly accused? The matter was the Great Case of Damian Green and the man with the burning ears and soiled soul is one Keith Vaz, former Minister for Europe, still an MP for Leicester, and now Chair of the important Home Affairs Select Committee. The Oz and I will preside over our Star Chamber and will then invite you to be the jury. Thoughts on e-mail or by text and let's have no Boris-isms, please.

For years the good people of Richmond, and there abouts, have wanted to get to the East End by direct rail service. Now they can. Well, no they can't but they will be able to by 2012. What is more there is much celebration that this is being achieved for a paltry £75 m - an amount most modern bankers wouldn't miss if it fell down the back of their plush, taxpayer provided Liberty's sofas. But if so simple and so cheap, why such a long wait?
Harris asked Geoff Hoon, the Transport Secretary, about the delay, but may have nodded off halfway through the answer. We'll find out at 6.

The theists have hit back at the atheists on London buses. God knows why but he may yet tell. Perhaps he will place his own thought on a bendy bus. I'm hooked. Hope you are, or purgatory awaits you. The Big Boss thinks the new theistic response may prove difficult to believe if you've been stuck in traffic on a number 14 for nine hours. I have warned him of a lightening strike before 6.

Modern health care in London is supposed to be a great example of "the money following the patient". In Essex that penny is yet to drop. In fact the huge pile of pennies making them all healthier has waddled off in a different direction leaving one GP, with a waiting room as crowded as the 02 on a Kylie night, funding provision from his own pocket. He's a hero, the system has come unstuck and Lewis is asking the NHS Trust for answers.

Ben has gone to an exhibition which celebrates unusual talents which, in Victorian times, were known as "freak shows". Think Elephant Man and Bearded Lady and you are on the right track. I think he is just spending a very dubious afternoon in the company of a female contortionist. I'll certainly be glued to his report and not in a judgmental way. I am just impressed: last night, mitten crabs; tonight, a woman who probably wouldn't know what a mitten was if it tried to cover her fingers up. Bet her name is Fifi.
Also at the show, sword swallowers and, according to Faye, "fire-blowers". She is sporting a tight white T-shirt and those vein-vanquishing jeans again so I suspect circulation problems may have numbed the brain. "Fire-eaters, Faye, fire-EATERS"!

Glen meets the man who, despite £10 million, couldn't find true love. Only when he pretended to be Joe Normal on Nine and Nine pence did he meet the woman of his dreams. If he really thought he wasn't going to be a magnet for gold diggers, having said "Hi, I'm Joe and I'm worth £10m", then I fear for his sanity. As for the girl with whom he finally found true love, I suspect she may just have had an inkling that "you've got to be in it to win it...". We'll see.

Robin has looked a lot more self-confident since the sun came out - he hopes the contract on his life has now been lifted. We may ask him at 6.
The papers have lots of "F"s and even more "****"s on their front pages - Boris, what have you done?!?!

The Oz is excited by lots of pictures of Koalas with little mittens protecting their little paws from the nasty blazes Down Under. I think they are Chinese crabs in fur disguise to avoid ending up on Ben's restaurant menu, but she seems happy in her ursine fantasy. It's a "Down Under" thing.

We'll see you at 6. (She'll be the one cooing and I'm the one feigning shock at Bozza's vocabulary. In Australia, may I remind you, it is the norm).

See you at 6

Alastair and Alex