Hullo,
I do hope your summer is being as blessed as mine. I’m still not used to all the dressing up, having to sit in the back of cars and not get to drive, and being followed by the young man with a wire in his ear and a bulge in his jacket, but I’m relishing the new challenges being placed before me.
The other day I met one Patrick McLoughlin, the chap responsible for the ongoing development of the High Speed Train system. I had asked for this meeting to highlight the many concerns of homeowners whose property is now blighted by the HST building corridor. Mr McLoughlin said that whilst he understood their worries, they counted for very little in the face of such a shiny, sexy, government-saving project. When I further pressed him about the plight of those whose homes would be compulsorily purchased, he appeared not to hear me and kept muttering, “Whoosh! 225mph! Whoosh! Whoa! Sexy!” I was not impressed by the HST. Utterly bereft of any real character, it cannot hold a candle to the steam locos of yesteryear, or the wonderful atmosphere they engendered. Rachmaninov, Brief Encounter! The dear dead steamy days beyond recall.
I am soon to serve on a Parliamentary Inquiry into Banking Ethics. Now this I am really looking forward to. I have experience in this field. I can name greedy, bent names and warmly anticipate handing out quite a few excommunications. Failing that, a spell in chokey. Ethics need strong backup. So I will not hesitate to, in the words of Dame Edna Everidge, give the little bleeders a good hiding.
Pip pip,
Justin.
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