as i write this, cherie and tonie are rowing their bathtub across to the isle of britain.
apparently, they want an early night.
why, i don't know.
it's not as if they've got much to do now, is it?
anyway, they enjoyed the island tour i arranged.
kev the chauffeur strapped them on the back of our customised milk float - standing up, of course.
i had to warn kev about driving too slowly round the bends on the cliff road - i thought they'd appreciate some excitement...the sort they can fill up their memoirs with.  after that, he drove like a looney, and i could her them screaming with obvious terror as we did 110 round a hairpin.
back at the palace, doris laid on a lovely spread.
this was annoying because it looked rather nice before she decided to have a nap on the table.
still, she did warm up the pies somewhat.

cherie choked on a chipolata and tonie looked embarrassed.
i patted her back a little too vigorously and her dentures shot out, immediately attaching themselves to gordon the brown's throat.
rather symbolic, i thought.

and now - peace at last.
doris is watching repeats of gladiators.
kev the chauffeur is tuning up the milk float.

and i am catching up with my important papers.
the sun, for one.

ta ta