My coat of arms

Yesterday I was at the College of Arms to discuss what might be appropriate as a newly knighted coat of arms. As it happens Dic Patrickson, who holds an illustrious, anachronistic post with an archaic French sounding name, is an old friend from Oxford, naturally. He suggests that though some people like to incorporate a play on their name in their Arms he was not sure a toilet was on their approved list (though appropriate as he fondly remarked due to the amount of shit I have been party to over the years!)

So I am going for this.

I then sent an open letter to the Times for the Prime Minister to read (he ignores my texts, emails, phone calls etc so it is the only way I can ensure he at least accidentally finds out what I have to say) about Bogg Society. But it's a secret so you can't read it.

Suffice it to say it contained my usual bluster and bullshit amid some surprisingly sensible points about Bogg Society hitting the buffers. Or possibly bluffers. I also suggested the PM should spend a week without an umbrella for shelter to get an idea about the value of brollies. The joke round the office is that Cameron wants to try my job for a week but only if it's a full on job swap. I'll run down the country for a week instead of him. They're funny bastards in our office as you can see.

But Cameron could do worse then appoint me to have a word with that economic genius Osborne. The disappointing growth figures announced yesterday were blamed on the weather. Some have said this is nonsense but it is a known fact that when there is snow, there isn't rain so sales of umbrellas plummet. Unless the government can stimulate umbrella sales and solve gampflation we risk a double-drip recession.

Do you get it? Double-drip...I said, double dRip.

Oh please yourselves.