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Showing Off the Crown Jewels

Brrrrrr. It gets a bit chilly over here in Britain and even jogging along at a fairly good pace for my age doesn't seem to be warming the old bod up as much as it used to.

I'm in northern England - Newcastle to be precise - although I'm not sure if the local Geordie accent is English or Scots.

After a particularly long night supping on an imported keg of Gloucestershire's excellent Old Timer ale I went for a bit of a stroll around town.

Problem was I went for a roll as well and ended up at the bottom of an embankment. When I awoke some bugger had ripped off my excellent clothes and I was left, starkers, on a very cool northern night.

Righto, thought I, have a bit of a jog to keep warm. So off I went trying to get back to my hotel only to run smack-bang into a crowd-lined street and the royal Rolls Royce.

Stunned I made a dash for a bit of privacy only to be tackled by four great police constables. One put me in a headlock, another two held my arms and the last one - yeeeeeeeek! What the bloody hell was that?

Oh my God his name badge said Constable Hopoate - oh no, not the former rugby league star of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Finger fame!

Help, help, I shouted. Hey, this never happened in The Bill.

All of a sudden the black Rolls stopped and the Queen's window wound down slowly.

"Grumpy? Grumpy? Is that you?"

"Hi ya Liz, yup I was taking a ... well it's a long story..."

"I can see that Grump, even in cold weather. Hop on in!"

With that the stunned coppers released me and I fair flew into the royal motor.

"Thanks Liz, you've saved me a spot of bother there. Gee, how about a whisky? And a blanket."

"I've only got the corgis' blanket Grump, will that suffice?"

"Sure will, Liz, gee nice to see you. Sorry about your Mum, did you get my card."

"Yes thank you Grump, it's on my mantlepiece. It did help. What are you doing here."

"Well Liz, to tell you the truth I'm on my way to give Jacques Chirac a few tips on improving his image. I mean the guy should have won by 95 per cent of the vote over old Jean-Marie le Pencil - not just 80 per cent."

"What will you tell him, Grump?"

"I'll gently tell him, Liz, that the only way to have a loved and adored place in the people's hearts is to either be like me - and right all the time - or else like you and speak your English beautifully."

"But he's French, Grump."

"Do tell Liz, but that's what the Froggies have been needing for a 1000 years or so - a good grasp of the English language other than the words 'I surrender'."

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com