Potato Head

Alas, dear reader, this may be my last post for a few days. I've got to peel off as I've been booked as the after-dinner speaker at a symposium in Yokohama in aid of the International Year of the Potato, the only global meeting where, when they take a vote, the eyes always have it. Oh well, it'll be an opportunity to get mashed, I suppose.

But don't y'all get to thinking I've had my chips. Like phytophthora infestans, you can't get rid of me that easily! Pip pip!

Cone Fishing

Zillions of millionaires on Ramsgate beach this afternoon. It seems summer has finally arrived!

Clearly we're now well into the silly season. Parliament has broken up, with old One Eye Brown off to stay with his brand new chum Camp David. The kiddy-diddlers at the BBC (a survey out today shows 60% of adults now trust the BBC less since scandals such as the faked Blue Peter phone-in) have all scarpered to their villas in Tuscany, leaving the viewers to digest endless repeats. And, as you can see by the headline on this post, I'm rapidly running out of ideas for atrocious puns.

So it's time for a bit of a break. There are ice creams to be licked, bottles of Krug to be popped, and an autobiography to be written. But like the Beeb, I'll be bunging up a few repeats, and who knows, if something interesting happens I might even be persuaded to comment on it. As I've always said: You can't get rid of me that easily!

Hurray! Hurray! It's A Public Holiday!

Well, er, no, it's not actually. But there are many people who believe that today being St George's Day, it should be. So I'm taking the day off.

Not that I'm one of those little Englander types, you understand. Just a lazy blighter grabbing any excuse to do bugger all.