Fill her up please my good man!

Ischgl

Have you noticed that all the political coves have dropped of the radar while we worry about petrol?
Stunning coincidence methinks. When the knocks get a bit hot over the Sith, Milburn and Clarke (has a ring to it, what? Like Humpty and Dumpty) slip some sugar and baking soda into the petrol supplies and bang, off the beeb's front pages faster than you can mutter 'state mouthpiece'.
This chap is not convinced. It is on the front pages at home, yet all the overseas press is still obsessed with the collapse of yet another socialist administration in the UK. You would think the great British Public would have learned by now, wouldn't ya?

Anyway - I owe a few namechecks to the coves I met out here.
Big warm hello from the blogsphere to the Midlands Ski club, who despite sitting a few feet from me everyday at brekkie, singularly faled to fill the amaretto glass. However, you all seemed nice chaps.

Extra special hello to the others -

James and Julie the newlyweds who despite deep snow and fresh air contrived to look pale and tragic.
Gothic skiing. The Sisters of Mercy remixing ski sunday. Classic.

To Kate (that name still makes me shudder) and her girlfriend Anna and the other two delightful gay girls in their company - Josephine and 'Bailey'.... May Ischgl remind you of an ice filled waterbed winter wonderland midnight love cruise to island of Lesbos.

So.

Me and the Alvis hit the road tomorrow. 9 hours of heated seats and lantern jawed dashing across Europe awaits. Just as well she runs of my own mix of avgas and tractor vapourising fluid.

I'm sick of strudel, schnitzel and schnapps. I need boiled sprouts, warm beer and plumbing which does not challenge you to check for fibre content.