All at sea

The joys of returning to the south of England from my solitude in the windswept north of England have unfolded rather unpleasantly in front of me today. It rained hard and blew a gale overnight and as soon as I got up I gave that nice lady decorator an early opportunity to get her best nag out. I cannot be arsed to reveal the gory details but somehow I messed up the Sky signal, pressed a wrong button or something. This was quite reasonably her excuse to be in a foul mood all morning. She does bad mood better than anyone I know. Sometimes being away up north has its good points. No nagging and no Banjo.

Having resolved the problem in a little over a heartbeat and after an early cycle I went for a walk on the beach at Clymping where I took this picture after the overnight rain had cleared. Then it was nose to the grindstone (stupid expression) of commerce. My presence is required in London today so that my team of designers and website creators can take strength from my character and vision. Many of you will have already spotted this last statement as bullshit, but I do project it well, so well in fact that some of them may actually believe it, indeed some read it and are charged with its promotion. If any of them were in need of foreign exchange then they would come running, but I digress.

Clymping. The hairdressers favourite

Thus planning how best to use my valuable time to its best effect today was requited. With my media empire extending into areas as diverse as John Otway through to rap music, and from The Small Faces to successful self book  publication I am testing the limits of my credibility to its limits and enjoying it hugely. Just occasionally though it is my duty to put in an appearance to keep the spirits up, a bit like a latter-day Jimmy Savile (can I say that?) would have done had he been still alive but without the perversion (well mostly without the perversion). Once my fleeting appearance in front of the troops is complete I shall be able to return to a quieter period in the bosom of Arundel for the weekend, where there is an outside chance I may get to play tennis on Sunday morning before lunch with old pal Wild Willy Barrett.

Mr Barrett is another seeking my perceived expertise, which he naively believes can help his career. This is a triumph for hope over fact. He is one of the most gifted musicians I have ever met but has a habit of sawing up guitars whilst he plays them that I find irresistible. I shall be doing my best to find a way to help him. I may suggest withdrawing his saw from his set, but then again, maybe not.

I touched on Banjo earlier. Ideally, rather than touch him I would have fallen upon him from a great height if my wishes had been granted. I have not missed the snivelling snot encrusted hound so beloved by that nice lady decorator and thankfully I shall be spared his company tomorrow.

The Reverend Jeff writes to congratulate me on my pigeon and bird jokes over the past few days whilst I have been reporting from up north. That always makes me suspicious; if he likes them then perhaps I am not as funny as I think? At first I thought it was a (pigeon) coup to placed on such a high perch, but when I thought about it my feathers were ruffled and I have begun to get the message (delivered by carrier pigeon?). It is time I (pigeon) toed the line and wrote something more entertaining, something that will fly. Ok, that is bird jokes done to death. Until tomorrow.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News