Beer denial effective

The trip down to Portofino along the Italian Riviera with the top down on the car was delightful as was the town itself , the atmospheric and beautiful port. I was standing in the port area looking out to sea last night when there was an altercation nearby. A muslim chap was bemoaning the demise of Bin Laden and during a “discussion” with some of the locals became so animated that he fell into the sea. Being a good citizen I summoned help. I do hope the letter gets there in time for the police to be able to rescue him.

Before we left, there was a little more work to do on the patio. That nice lady decorator’s patio laying skills have of course in the past required the crucial correct mix of sand and cement to enable her to be creative without concern about the quality of materials, and the downside of that was that, until recently,  I was the only one capable of the kind of perfection she demands. This is true in a variety of other areas, some of which are rather too delicate to go into in this column. Unfortunately, that required that most feared of activity, physical labour on my part but I am happy to be able to report progress in that area. With a combination of careful tutelage, threats, bullying and hefty bribes contributing somewhat towards the “training” of my 18-year-old son to take on this mantle having only partial effect, I discovered the missing element last week. Beer denial, yes that was the missing piece in the jigsaw in the training process, and the discovery of this vital strand of apprenticeship development has contributed a great deal to the cement production process and, as a result, my own general well-being.

I suggested in a recent review of the cricket match between the Hammer Bottom Butsers and Cabris Cricket Club or rather in a picture I featured of their monogrammed boxes (that crucial piece of equipment designed to protect a chaps ability to reproduce) that the shot was sufficiently close up for only the wives of the miscreants to recognise them, but lo and behold in, the teams on-line report of the match, it appears that the whole team were immediately able to identify the two members (sic) of their team who were caught literally with their trousers down. For clarity here, I am afraid I must show the picture once again.

As Rolf Harris may have said "Can you see who it is yet?"

This admission throws up some important questions, such as how were the rest of the team so easily able to identify their teammates from such an intimate shot? In all the cricket teams in which I have played in the past, I can honestly say that I have seldom, if ever, seen a team-mate “boxed in” as it were. Might there be a clue in the first two words of the team name, the Hammer Bottom Butsers?

Today then onwards to Venice, which I  have never before visited, but I am told it is a haven for mosquitos, however I am also told that to keep a high level of alcohol in one’s blood when subject to these pests is one of the best forms of defence, and, as I hate mosquito bites, I fear i may have to risk further damaging my liver this weekend. Live damage is a well-known danger when confronted by my hard-drinking hard smoking Norwegian gay friends, but with two days of abstinence behind me, I have seldom been better prepared for the privations that await me.

I am taken to task again by Phil the yacht for not getting in a plug forCurrencies Direct yesterday, but my new policy is not to plug their wonderful services ever again, however I am prone to lying.

Chris France