What I learnt in Iceland

Rhubarb's a stem and not a fruit,
Prunes and muesli make you toot,
But snorchestras will drown out wind.
Allegedly (I'm not convinced)
Box jellyfish aren't jellyfish and
Greenland is further east than Iceland.
A Minister of Elvish Matters
Defines the routes of roads and detours.
Dottirs and ssons of Irish slaves
Kill foxes, whales, whatever moves,
And there's a certain charm in grimness,
Tax evasion, drunken primness,
Strapping horses, strapping women.
Real men who smell of fish and semen.
Volcanic science,
Car-mangling giants,
Fire and ice,
I think it's nice.

A Giant Step for Shagkind

I missed the Grand Opening of Potters Fields. I was in Iceland to discuss NATO business with our allies, the Killer Whales. You will enjoy a courtesy visit by a Killer flotilla in the Thames later this summer. I invited them over to intimidate the Mayor of LondON and to snack on the swans, gulls, grebes, coots and other oily-feathered riffraff.

I also had an exchange of views with the Icelandic Minister for Elvish Matters whose portfolio includes Giants, Trolls and the routing of roads not to disturb the Huldufolk, the Hidden People. In Reykjavik a Giant with a grudge against cars was on the rampage as you can see from the snap. Makes the Congestion Charge look effete, nest-ce pas?

The Leader of Southwark Council

in full dress uniform:

Cakes and Ale

Last night 2 beautiful ladies from Southwark's Licensing Unit brought me an invite to meet Nick Stanton, the leader of Southwark Council, tomorrow evening at Potters Fields Trust's office 2 minutes' waddle from Tower Bridge. I don't normally agree to meet people who call themselves Nick or Tony or Dave to strangers. The ingratiating informality of our would-be masters makes me want to expectorate on their jeans, but on Friday Nick's licensing committee meets to determine Potters Fields' application for booze-fuelled, all night, amplified, fairtrade yodelling. I don't mind the Special Olympics head-trampolining - I might join in - but yodelling frizzles my feathers. Anyway I suspect that the eloquent objections from the blood-sucking nimbies in Shad Thames, not to mention the avenging angels of Shag Thames, have made Nick nervous that the Committee might nix Nick's license notwithstanding he's their boss.

So let's recap: Nick is on the board of Potters Fields and he's leader of the Council whose committee grants licenses. Conflict Of Interest, n'est-ce pas. But Old Nick is an honourable man, so are they all, all honourable men...yeah right, as the Bard would say. Ok so he wants to meet and make me a proposition. He'd just better not be wearing £100 jeans.

Here's a precis of the new licensing conditions proposed by the Trust:

Corporate Events till 1am - max 25 per year of which max 12 per month.
Translation: charity mud-wrestling in a marquee near City Hall with drunken, sex-crazed brokers and traders (I know, I was one) staggering down Tooley Street at 2am to the lap-dancing club and urinating on City Hall en route. All fine by me.

Cultural Events till 10.30pm - max 55 per year of which minimum 45 would be free to the public.
Translation: Tosca al fresco and Free-Palestine-Or-We'll-Blow-Up-Tower-Bridge rallies (speaker, the Mayor of London) and so on.

Tell me, Nick, if this is all for the sake of revenue to run Potters Fields, why is it free ?

Toodlepip.