I am having severe couscous withdrawal symptoms as I have been banned from 487 supermarkets for setting fire to health lottery promotional material. Still, it made a terrific birthday bonfire when the Blacbury Lidl went up in flames on Saturday.
I haven't been officially invited to CFDG's baked-bean-counters trough-out but anyone with a dinner jacket and brass balls can usually just waltz into a fancy hotel and blag a free nosebag.
Assuming I am not too busy retiring from writing blog posts and do decide to attend, please feel fee to come and say "Wassup, Sir Robin, my main man, bro' you're sure looking cool, dude, check out that Knighthood" if you spot me and I have got past security. Some people claim they are unsure what I look like but I can assure you I look in person just as I do in the photos.
Of course I may not be going at all and this could all be some sort of a highly amusing test but if you do introduce yourself to someone who isn't really me you'll still have made a new friend. Albeit a very confused one.
Actually, perhaps I should have a code sentence for people to use. How about "Give me women (or men), wine, and snuff, until I cry out "hold, enough!". That way even if you speak to the wrong person you may at least get something interesting and have a cracking night.
Incidentally, that line is Shelley for non-poetic blog readers. Indeed it's Shelley for the poetic ones as well, but it just sounds more condescending if I highlight my classical Oxford, naturally, education in comparison to those who are uncultured barbarians. Which makes me look even more of a pompous arse when you realise that it's actually Keats. Oops.