There I was, answering David Camerons letter asking me for help and I dropped my pen like, bent down to pick it up and hit me head on the corner of the gold plated walking stick holder.
On my way through the home gym on my way to the Conservatory where my 24-hour nurse Grizelda was fondling a photograph of me, I came across this photo in the medical cabinet?
I’ve coloured the text as near as I could to Claret, to encourage Mike to supply a description of the happenings at Arsenal’s Ground, and what why and when was he there then? TTFN.
Oh I remember this so very well…you see back in 1934 I had the honour of parading Herbert Chapman’s ashes on their final journey before an adoring public…bitter sweet day I can tell you.
I hear you were actually quite sauced and ended up spilling the ashes all over the queen. Come now Mike, we know you too well for that bittersweet muck.
I would never do such a thing…not to the last remains of Herbert at least!
Come one Mike, there were witnesses!
Well that’s cleared that up Mike, thanks. Hehe!
That Mike…up to no good I tell you!
Come come Marissa. We must show compassion empathy and understanding of those addicted to the Claret, surely? Or, maybe not… Hehe!
Well, not when they try to trick you out of your life savings in order to get the stuff!
If I remember correctly, they had lost the actual ashes, and had to borrow the cremated remains of some guy who used to play the harmonica outside Wimbledon station, on account of his having no caring relatives and therefore they would not be the subject of any awkward questions. The actual ashes, if I remember where found later under a seat In Hyde Park, but by then those in power, so to speak, were too embarrassed to admit the cock-up and poor old Herbert ended up in a dustbin round the back of Lorrie’s fish and chip shop in Tottenham of all places !
Ah, well that clears that up, thanks. Hehe!