Many years ago - (have you noticed that most of the matters of which I write happened 'many years ago'? Funny that. Well, not for me, obviously.). Where was I again ? Right.
Many years ago, I went down to a crossroads at midnight and did a deal with The Devil in one of his many guises - he got the media rights to my immortal soul and I would be able to play guitar like Robert Johnson. While my people and his people were doing the necessary due diligence, Auld Nick informed me that he held a part-time agency for Scottish Widows, and, in exchange for an affordable monthly contribution, I would be in receipt of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice when I achieved three score years.The dizzy prospect of serenading Judith Chalmers with Stop Breakin Down Blues on some sun-soaked beach proved irresistible,and I signed up for both deals.
Alas, in the fullness of time, neither arrangement proved wholly satisfactory.Perhaps as a result of finding hitherto well concealed deficiencies in the soul under advisement, Beelzebub (or Jeremy as he is currently known) limited my virtuosity to that of Boris Johnson. And the pension thing was a bit of a bummer too.
Lucifer had neglected to list his directorships in Scottish Power, Scottish Gas, and BT , as a consequence of which I am required to occasionally venture forth again into the world of commerce in order to avoid the freezing of the drip on the end of my wife's nose.
And so it was that last week I was engaged in the ignoble pursuit of casting pearls before clients. During this time the unattended blog was visited by a (relatively !) large numbers of people apparently based in Finland. Whether they are all disciples of their countryman Tom, I have no way of knowing. But, given his predilection for unnaturally large members, I thought this from the Wirral's finest might be appropriate. And its about hillwalking too !