I’ve always said that just because you are in an occupation where more often than not you are covered in mud, and sometimes far worse, there is no excuse to be dowdy. One should always make an effort in one’s appearance.
The truth of the matter is that many moons ago, over a shared bottle of milk stout, myself and Brisbane Babs were discussing life, the universe and the merits of pop socks when the subject changed to secret desires. “You know what I would love for my 50th birthday” says I “something that I admit that I have lusted over for many years” “I can’t get George Clooney, I’ve tried” says she “OK, well second best would be a pair of gold platform knee-length boots that will stretch over my fat calves” says I. They said it couldn’t be done, there were many doubters along the way (especially the flabby calf bit), but by golly she did it and she did it well. Who knows what dens of iniquity and shady dives she had to frequent, the dodgy deals undertaken and stale sandwiches eaten on my behalf. So I would like to confirm that being the proud owner of these exquisite works of art is everything I ever hoped it would be and more. A large round of applause for BB and many thanks to the photographic team who took the great pictures, the stunt advisors, make up team, catering crew, animal trainers and St John Ambulance that helped create the outstanding portfolio that will follow in the next couple of days. I will be away celebrating my half century and getting measured up for my zimmerframe (gold obviously).