Can’t stop long, this morning. Gotta get moving: 6:30 Ack Emma I shall wake The Incumbent with a cup of cha, hurry her into her fatigues and we’ll be off down the road, Folkestone bound. From there we’ll plonk the jalopy onto a chuff chuff, cross the channel, hang a right and be off on our trip down into Normandy and to memory lane, just like Generals Montgomery and Bradley before. To confuse the Hun (sorry – the French) we’ll be landing in the Pas de Calais (they won’t be expecting that this time) rather than the more direct approach of our fivefathers, we will travel under the cover of sunlight (well, rainlight) and hope soon to be liaising with our two most trusted men out there.
Agents Plastered of Paris and Monsieur Horrible (A better names for a couple of Twits I’ve yet to hear) are well-known to readers of The Sharp Single and who form what we like to know as The Malaise Pocket. However, their Anglo-Saxon insight into all things garlic and Gallic has been invaluable over the past couple of years, and by way of thanks The Incumbent and I will be touring the area, handing out hilarious, quality T-shirts (at very competitive rates) and drinking as much of their booze as is possible.
If Mrs B is very lucky, she’ll get a couple more tours of D-Day beaches and war graves thrown into the mix. What a Lucky girl.
So pip pip ! See you on the other side. Just as long as my head, foot, arse and knees hold up I should be back in a week.
If not, talk amongst yourselves.