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Missed a couple while composing there. I had decided Stoatie's lie must be the gameshow with the p.o.r.g. people then but now I have to opt for shaking Buzz Aldrin's hand. I'll bet that's just a lifelong ambition, nurtured in his bagpuss-clad bosom.
Harold Wilson, poor man, was subjected to several cocky, precocious letters from me when I was at Primary School and he was Prime Minister. I would just about wet myself when I'd get these signed (by him) letters back (from some Downing Street flunky), thanking me for "my loyal support" or for "expressing such an interesting poiint of view" or whatever. I can even recall some of the advice I gave him about good swing park design and the growing threat of nationalist politics. *beetroot cheeks*
I would agree with Stoatie's logical deductions about the unlikelihood of my having any aristocratic forebears but there are a couple of strands of something other than serf there, even if on the wrong side of the blanket. After all, isn't there some theory that 90%+ of the population of England is descended from Edward III? Riches to rags long since, although the Fraters were a cut above the various lowland Scots dynasties they intermarried with. She apparently had a fur coat and other such posh heirlooms. Their disposal caused big fights in the family when she died.
Sadly, I am not a star on a minor Texan radio station but the friend I was staying with in Waco did do several voiceovers while I was there. She had a deep, very English, very educated voice which always sounded damned odd coming on to say "You're listening to the laid back sounds of Radio K***" in between cutting edge (for the eighties) black music. There is somewhere, either here or in the Edinburgh flat, a tape of said station with her popping on at regular intervals. They didn't want me, with my unreconstructed West Lothian vowels, oddly! I wasn't "sexy" enough. Pah! Life can be very unfair. |
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