Oh dear God no… Tomorrow (or today if you’re viewing this in black and white) I’ll be clambering on board the 06:45 flight from Aberdeen to Bristol. Unnnnng. If I’m lucky this will involve a scantily-clad air hostess baring all and lovely bloody Marys. But knowing my luck it’ll be some bloke called ‘Steve’ with athlete’s foot and a bad case of last night’s curry.
Regardless: I’ll be Bristol bound before the dawn chorus has got its slack-arsed act together. Thence follows four days of debauchery and napkins. And maybe some making fun of certain forgetful short-arsed crime writers.
Actually, there’s no ‘maybe’ about it. If God didn’t want us to make fun of them, he/she’d have made them taller.