Thank you Charles, and thank you too mousethief for the much-coveted silver blobs.

Finally I'd like to add some sort of tribute to the long-suffering media folk who go out of their way to bring us these strange and wonderful stories. Some of the references in this song may not make much sense in Seattle, or indeed anywhere outside of the UK, but it seems rather otiose to add footnotes.

The life of a junior reporter

In England, when August comes, it brings the Silly Season;
No news occurs of any sort for any rhyme or reason;
Our MPs they all leave the House, to go and shoot some Scottish grouse,
Or stay in some grand country house to join in a joyful threesome.

The Editor of The Telegraph, with his secretary and first aide,
Takes his family to St Tropez with bucket and a spade;
His staff must file their own reports from lesser known seaside resorts,
Far from the Central Criminal Courts where reputations are made.

The correspondent in Southend had to shed her inhibitions,
And likewise all her clothing despite the weather conditions;
With goose bumps greater than her breasts, she faced the ultimate of tests,
She gazed on one hundred naked chests, and she made the first editions.

Now baring all for charity has been sanctified by Helen Mirren,
And its very nice and naughty and its good clean fun;
Its not done for titillation, nor yet for Page Three sensation,
But I'd rather sponsor someone to keep their clothing on!

Matthew Edwards