Well-Earned Rest

Greetings, my dears...Greetings.

It has been rather a while - but you will understand my silence.  One has had so many demands on one's time: a new British Government to advise (so young, so naive, so charmant) ...the late night calls to Pyonyang...getting my father in law back into the Asylum after his unfortunate escape - and paying out the necessary hush-money...the endless meetings of the Illuminati to attend (such a bore)...and of course, there were my financial affairs to look to: Eurozone economies don't just collapse on their own, you know. Old Springy has been an absolute Stakhanovite over the last month.

But things begin to calm themselves now and here I am again,  full of Good Old Club Port and wickedness, ensconced once more in my favourite (heavily stained) chair in the Library. To my left stands the exquisite Florentine pietra dura cabinet in which I keep my extensive collection of  pornographic mezzotints and hardcore renaissance medals. To my right, a small library table inlaid with human skin, on which stands a decanter of brandy, a half empty balloon glass,  a vial of morphine, a large pile of writs and injunctions that I am in the process of issuing  against a range of children's charities, hospital trusts, environmental campaigners and other tiresome busybodies; and a heavily annotated copy of  Hourani's History of the Arab Peoples.

As you would no doubt expect, I am in full evening dress, having just returned from a formal dinner at my Club. It is one of the older establishments;  the Reaction, formed in response to the 1832 Reform Act; a copy of which each newly-elected Member is presented with and required to "Abjure, Refute and Deny". It is a body of Gentlemen devoted to "the opposition of all innovation in all fields". No doubt you know of it.  Membership is fiendishly hard to secure  but the subscription is only twenty Guineas a year (£21)- although regrettably, as this must be paid in gold sovereigns, it is ruinously expensive. I am fortunate in that I am generally paid in gold by my foreign clients...one does not care to sully one's hands with tawdry matters of exchange rates etc...

Obviously, June is a busy time as the end of the month sees the All-England Annual Club Bore Tournament (Known to one and all as "Dullards")  take place. This is one of the most keenly contested events of the sporting calendar and I am proud to say that once again, I have been asked to represent the Reaction. Regular readers will know that I am a relentless but  inventive bore, and it is my ability to react swiftly and effectively to spoiling tactics, attempts to escape, and even coma amongst  the opposing teams that has secured my place. Yes, there are duller members of the team. Yes, there are more garrulous ones. But they lack the utter ruthlessness, the true killer instinct that only KGB training and a Civil Service background can bring. We confidently expect to finish as victors.

As for the remainder of the summer? Oh, nothing much. Rome, of course: one must rally round. But otherwise, I hope to be left in peace with my beloved books.

Assuming Pater doesn't escape again, of course...