Currencies delegate in french boy shock

During dinner on my last night in London where dinner was taken at the Chop Shop in Butlers Wharf, a beautiful and wonderfully well endowed new Currencies Direct delegate, reveals that she is particularly partial to beautiful young French men. She is clearly not yet aware that revelations of this nature to me, may occasionally surface in this column, but as she does not know this to be the case, I will not mention her name, however Michelle may be aware of whom I speak.

Earlier, I meet my old pal and successful failure John Otway in order for him to seek my guidance of what career step he should take next and then, at last, this morning I am back in Valbonne, ready for a fearsome barrage of sporting and social events in the coming days. Tennis, golf, lunch, tennis, lunch and lunch, although not necessarily in that order.

I am also to be subjected to a jewellery party, being staged by that nice lady decorator on next week in our garden. She is hoping to make maybe 150 Euros profit from the event, failing completely to factor in the 2000 Euros (about £1750 at today’s exchange rate that is being spent on resurfacing the terrace. It is worse of course, because I shall be expected to stump up the cash for the building works, whereas the proceeds from the event will remain firmly in her grasp.

If there are upsides to being in London, these are limited to the opportunity to drink proper beer, and the absence of that monstrous mutt Banjo from my sight. The fattest dog in the world has of course deposited his particularly odorous calling cards all over my lawn, despite the absolute condition of his continuing to grace my household, that any of his little deposits would be cleaned up the same day. This has reminded me that in a competition in the US aimed at finding the best definition of a modern term, Political Correctness” was “a doctrine fostered by delusional, illogical minority promoted by unscrupulous media which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a piece of shit at the clean end”.

My picture today is of Mr Clipboard, but I have absolutely no idea what the meaning of this pose is. Perhaps if anyone has any suggestions, please leave a comment?

Mr Clipboard mimicking a pig. No, I have no idea why either.

That nice lady decorator wants to put a tent type contraption in our garden. I was apparently asked when distracted a few weeks ago if I had any problems with that, and admit to having some vague recollection of some type of conversation, but I had concluded that a tent in the garden, for whatever purpose, was unlikely to disturb my little world much. That is my defence. It seems than, that rather than a tent in the accepted sense the word, a vast construction involving tent canvas, supports and the like which will be big enough to house a small army of Bedouins and a flock of camels to boot. Some 20 square metres of tent canvas will be required plus loads of sticks and ropes to keep it in place. Of course the cost element has not been fully looked into and it is clear then these vital facts had been wilfully kept away from me attention and so I shall soon be the happy owner of a tent contraption costing more untold Euros. Now, as my selling of Currencies Direct has been described as a lot of hot air, so it seems that I will have to stoke up the fires and the make the hot air delivery a little better to help finance the sail like object.

Chris France