You realise I don't have to talk to you anymore

I just have to sweep by with a regal wave now I've had a package on Radio 4's Today programme introduced by James Naughtie and back anno'd by John Humphrys. It was like being in the middle of the ultimate aural sandwich.

I notice none of you commoners heard it. It almost matches the moment I treasure above all others (and which takes pride of place on my demo) - John Peel introducing me to read the news during his programme - the temptation to just scream "I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!" to the nation instead of a headline was almost overwhelming. but, you know, I managed.

Of the people who did text me after this seminal event (the Radio 4 one), there was a public school history teacher from Norwich, the managing director of a stock market listed company and someone who works at Buckingham Palace. It's a very downmarket programme.

If I had the werewithall I'd post it up. But I'd rather tell you all about my wonderful daughter. As the only parent who posts on this site, consider me warned. I'm sorry if my droning worship of the young lady that takes up a good deal of my time somehow finds its way into polite company. I'll try and stay on message in future.

And the message is...

I still don't go to pubs. Well I do, but so infrequently I have nothing constructive to say about them other than Thank God They Still Exist. I was with Ally (our Marylebone Correspondent - total postings: 0) at the Yorkshire Grey in W1 (scene of the Radio Showbiz Reporters 2004 Christmas Drink - more injuries than my stag do - and frankly some better quality gossip) the other lunchtime shortly after he showed me round the All New Western House, and...

The Yorkshire Grey is a Sam Smith pub, which must be, as far as I can make out, the state brewer. Where else can you get huge pubs, cheap beer, depressing atmosphere, central locations, historic buildings and the exact opposite of everything that Wetherspoons stands for?

Actually I've got a better analogy - Wetherspoons is ITV and Sam Smith is BBC. Both serve the same purpose but in very different ways.

Anyway, everyone knows what a Sam Smith's pubs is like, but the thought that came out of it was "Are there more good pubs in Soho, Noho and Mayfair than the rest of the country put together?" Discuss. And I'm not counting those perfect country pubs, that on closer inspection turn out to be restaurants.

Er right. This was meant to be a review of Theakston's Old Peculier, Bombadier and the first one, whose name I can't remember, but it's now more of a sorry warning about their effects. Which can't be all bad.

I'm off to look for houses in Kingston tomorrow, which on first sight has a lot of decent pubs, so I'm reasonably intrigued.

Love you all very much.

Nx

More on life south of the river...

If the South London Press isn't already the most unremittingly grim read, now they've found this, in our very own back gardens. Are we sure Chris Morris isn't now writing for the SLP?

NATURE lovers fear that squirrels could become hooked on crack cocaine plundered from addicts' hidden stashes...
Squirrels on crack

Parents - read this!

I think that Charlie Brooker is psychic. He has been looking in my head and writing down what he finds for his excellent column in The Guardian. This sums up my position on children - especially as we too live in bloody "Nappy Valley" - nicely...

I hate kids. Hate them all without exception. Even yours. Especially yours. Especially if it's a boy and you named it Jake. And if you've ever written a chummy diary article about Jake for a Sunday supplement, I wish nothing short of death upon you. Death by wasps and bombs and razorwire. In a thunderstorm. While Jake looks on in horror. Because I hate parents too...
Supposing... we had annoying child distress flares.