Most people 1 know find 60 million a rather conspicuous amount of
money to spend on a new Royal Yacht - especially on a private cruise
liner with no real defence capability. Unless of course we're
planning to subject enemy island states to a fearful bombardmerrt of
croquet mallets and deck quoits. As 1 recall, the Queen was quick to
commend the alleged heroism of Tony Builimore. Presumably there's a
substantially cheaper yacht going there. Admittedly it needs a tick
of paint, but in the right hands it could be restored to showroom
condition. To this end Ma'am, could 1 humbly draw your attention to
the following classified advertisement. "Yacht for sale. One
not-so-careful owner hence hull damage. High mileage due to
round-the-world debacle. First monarch on a tight budget to see will
buy.'
WE'RE all familiar with the sight W of builder's bottoms buiglng
over their unbeited waistbands. Since Alexander McQueen's
introduction of the builder's bottom cleavage to the Paris catwalks
the look has almost taken on a degree of respectability, though you
would have to say It looks a good deal better on Naomi Campbell than
It did on Terry who came to lay our patio. 1 think builders may be
getting a bum deal here because another sector of society is equally
prone to publicly airing the pallid posterior: Cyclists. This very
morning 1 narrowly missed a head-on collision due to my eyes being
drawn to the peeping cheeks of the bulbous mountain bike enthusiast
passing to my left. Surely these people must be aware of this
expanse of naked flesh. They must feel the breeze wafting in the
lower back and cleft vicinity. So please cyclists, make the roads
safer by tucking your shirts in. That way you'd look more like
someone riding a bike, and less like a place to park one.
I MUST say I'm speechless with admiration for Swampy, the Theseus
of the labyrinth beneath the proposed A30. Forget Branson and
Builimore as national heroes. Here's the real thing. A man prepared
to risk his own safety for the common good. A man making a point we
all, no matter how deep down, know to be right. His gamin charm
gives him the air of a Tolkien character for the 90s the little
tunnel-building elfin. SO how should we reward him? It has come to
my attention that the National Trust are advertising for custodians
for the "rock houses"of Kinver Edge. These are homes built
into redstone caves in South Staffordshire and occupied as recently
ad 1964. In the mid 1800`s a thriving community was in evidence
there and a 16th century hermit by the name of Holy Austin was said
to have settled there when he happened upon a hospitable cave
dwelling family . (Sound advice for would be hermits: its easier if
you do it with a few close friends.) So National Trust, look no
further. The new custodian of the caves should be the king of the
troglodytes: Swampy.