All Nationalities Welcome....Especially Lapps and Poles

I visited the allergy unit at my local hospital today to deliver a small donation. It is a cause that is dear to my heart as my own sister suffers from hayfever and diabetes. It is important to keep her spirits up, I think, so I buy her little presents. Nothing special, you know, just flowers and chocolate. She's a bit asthmatic as well – I suggested that she take up tennis, just for a bit of a wheeze.

When I got home and read the paper I had a bit of a shock. The headline read, “Lapdancing clubs have been set up by schools, minister admits.” My first thought was that perhaps this was a welcome outburst of entrepreneurial spirit by the schools in question. Then I thought that perhaps it was a work experience project. I was outraged – haven't these people heard that banks all over the city have been sacking staff and cutting bonuses? Who the hell can afford lapdancers these days?

To my relief, I discovered that I had misunderstood. It was merely a bit of disgracefully poor grammar and they meant that lapdancing clubs had been opened next to schools. The poor use of English is something which angers me. Some people don't even know the difference between a colon and a comma. Those of us who had the benefit of a public school education and three years at Oxford know that a colon is used to inform the reader that what follows proves and explains, or simply enumerates elements of what is referred to before while a comma is when you are knocked unconscious for a long time after a bang on the head.

Polling

The financial crisis is causing problems for the organizers of the London 2012 Olympics who fear that they may have to scale back on their plans. I was speaking yesterday with one of Boris Johnson's advisers about some of the cost-cutting schemes that are being considered. Shockingly, they are even contemplating changes to the events themselves. The Boxing will now include all other forms of packaging. On the same theme we will be stockpiling decommissioned barbed wire from Guantanamo Bay once it has been closed to be used in the Fencing. And the athletics will now climax with Underarm Javelin. He also passed on a bit of gossip about the British women's Badminton champion. He says that she has had a difficult year – it has been all shuttle and no fun at all.

Meanwhile, I visited one of our local Territorial Army bases earlier in the week to mark Armistice Day. While I was there, I met a young female soldier. Now you may think that this would be a problem for an old traditionalist like me, but you would be wrong. Back in the last war, I served with several admirable women officers when I was being trained to handle bazookas. So are meeting went very well, despite one small misunderstanding when she misheard something I said while I was reminiscing about my wartime experiences. All was well, however, when I explained that I had said V.E!

I had a little shock this week when I discovered that my Personal Assistant Jemima has joined the Liberal Democrats and has been helping out with in local constituency ahead of an upcoming by-election. It is a strong Tory area, of course, so there is little hope of making an impact; indeed she says that she and the elderly prospective candidate have been doing a lot of polling together and that he expects to lose his deposit!

Humbug!

I have just returned from a visit to Edinburgh, Scotland's ancient capital. I was there to give a speech at the Cockburn Association, which was founded in the city in 1875 to continue the work of Lord Henry Cockburn in promoting awareness of the painful medical condition to which he leant his name.

While I was there I ran into an old acquaintance from my days in government, Jeffrey Archer who was looking exceptionally well, I must say. Who says prison doesn't work? As an illustrious former sportsman himself, of course, Jeffrey was extremely pleased with Great Britain's unusually good performance at the Olympics. He was especially keen to point out his own contribution to the success of the cycling team by arranging a lucrative sponsorship deal with the makers of Everton Mints which involved the cyclists wearing giant boiled sweets on their heads. Marvellous. As a result, Britain can now, at last, be summed up by the words of the old Queen song; “We are the champions, my friend” and, to a lesser extent, “Fat Bottomed Girls they make the rocking world go round”

Medical Matters

I read two very interesting medical stories today. One was about a little girl in America who has had half of her brain removed. She is now only twice as clever a George Bush. Luckily, doctors think that the remaining half will learn to take over all of the functions of the half they have removed so she will soon be back to the level of any other six year old child (that is to say approximately four George Bushes).

Then I read that over one quarter of adults in New York are infected with genital Herpes! This reminded me of the time when I had to visit my doctor on Harley Street with an embarrassing condition of my own – when he asked me what was wrong I said, 'My Love is like a red, red...well see for yourself, Doctor.'

I'm afraid I rather let myself down when he came to examine me. I was unable to help myself when the doctor approached me with a pair of rubber gloves and a tub of Vaseline and I cried out, 'Doctor, No!' Interestingly, Ian Fleming, who was being treated in the next cubicle used this as inspiration for his James Bond novel, Goldfinger.

Ever since that time I have done my best to patronize those brave and steadfast organizations which try to ease the stigma attached to the many conditions which remain taboo in polite society. Just last week, for instance, I opened a treatment centre for men who suffer from premature ejaculation. Actually, when I arrived there was nobody there as I had got my times wrong. The man at reception told me I had come too soon! Still, I find such occasions extremely rewarding - the most rewarding part was when they gave me my fee!

The Army

There has been some discussion lately about how the army is no longer held in the same esteem by the public. This is mostly because there are no famous soldiers any more. By way of illustration, I have a nephew who called his eldest son Gadaffi as he was the only British trained soldier the poor chap had heard of. This is what comes of allowing the lower orders to take positions of command. It started to go wrong when Lord Kitchener and Field Marshall Haig got the blame for World War 1. By the time the second war came about we had to put up with that little oik Montgomery just because he won occasionally and didn't get all of his men killed in the process.

My own family, of course, has a proud naval tradition. One of my ancestors was a contemporary of Captain Bligh who sailed the South Pacific until his crew mutinied in protest at his constant renditions of “There is Nothing Like a Dame.”

On another note I have had to stop shopping at my local village store since they bought their new till which uses a barcode scanner. It just isn't suitable for the countryside. Yesterday Jemima was in to buy a large cucumber and was overcharged when they accidentally scanned a passing badger!

Not Cricket!

I read with dismay that the new Indian Premier League has been a great success. This involves a new version of cricket which was invented in England a few years ago and which only lasts of a couple of hours, like football or rugby or something like that and which has now taken over the cricketing world being played by teams called the Kolkatta Knight Riders. Don't these people know that cricket isn't supposed to be about entertainment? It is supposed to be the supreme test of sporting endurance – for the spectator. Frankly people who want a match that takes less than a working week to conclude are nothing short of soft.

And the old standards of gentlemanly conduct have long been in decline. Long gone are the days when the new batsman would be applauded to the wicket by the opposing team. I well remember attending my first Test Match as a boy. England were being led by Walter Hiscock.

As he came out to bat, the captain of the visiting Australians, Roger Pink, gave Hiscock a cheery wave from mid-off, setting the tone for the match. Later, when Hiscock got his fifty, the bowler Alf Long took Hiscock by the hand and gave his customary firm shake.

When the England skipper got out next ball (I can still hear the radio commentary as if it were yesterday “Hiscock is out!) there was no gloating from the Australians who cheerfully applauded their adversary from the field. Oh for the days of Hiscock, Long and Pink!