Letters to my sons.

Dear Son,

the day Diana died I was due to look at a flat in Catford with a view to buying it. I had an RSX100 motorcycle then which could do about 40 mph flat out. I had only been in London a couple of years at the time and I had never seen the streets so empty as on that day. Newcastle were due to play Liverpool that day, and the Toon were doing really well – if the teams had played that day I am certain that Nwecastle would have won. When I came back from Catford – never to return – I found out that the game had been cancelled. Newcastle lost the re-scheduled game.

This is not the first time that Diana had ruined my telly. In 1981 she and Charles flew out for their honey moon to Gilbratar. Instead of showing childrens TV programs, ITV decided to show them flying off live instead. But they were late taking off so Batman wasn’t shown that morning, neither was Wait Till Your Father Gets Home. I think that’s when I became a republican.

After Princess Di’s death there was a call for people to enter their stories of meeting her on a web site. I told how I shouted “Parasite!” at her when she opened a sports hall. There were lots of local school children there and their teacher came over and said that I had ruined their day. I replied that making young children stand in the rain for hours to take a look at some one who failed most of her exams was upsetting them. I also pointed out that Diana’s children would get the best of everything whether they merited it or not – her class would most likely get nothing whether they merited it nor not. Di’s youngest son, Harry (his father is James Hewitt, trust me) needed a teacher to help him cheat to pass his exams. Looks like I was right all along.

I need to write some stuff up about our recent trip to Trindad for Uncle Wendell’s wedding …