"It was coming up to 1.15 in the afternoon on one of those pin sharp icy cold days in December. The kind of day that makes a brass monkey look out the window and head back under the duvet shivering. The Sun glinted of the glass from the terminal building as I slipped the big Studebaker in, somewhere it would never be seen, in between the baggage carts and fuel trucks at Essex's Bumsted Airport.

Pulling the brim of my Fedora down over my eyes, I reached for the pack of Luckies on the dash and tapped out the last butt. Crumpling the pack I cast it out of the car window and struck a vesta on the dash to light my smoke. As I drew the rich satisfying smoke into my lungs I thought back to my interview with the Fat Man, just days earlier.

"I understand you are some kind of hot shot gumshoe about these parts, yeah" he wheezed, mopping the sweat from his brow with a spotted kerchief.

I nodded in accordance, taking a slug from my glass of Bourbon and water.

"You seez we need a guy, yeah, the kinda guy who can keepa secret, the kinda guy who can root out why it takes over an hour to deliver just one plane load of luggage to reclaim when the plane arrives 10 minutes early."

I saw an interesting story in the Torygraph today.

Pope Benedict is so very concerned that we are all being turned into devil worshippers by Rock music, the media and the web that he has decided to appoint exorcists to every RC diocese According to 82 year old Father Gabriele Amorth, the Vatican's Exorcist in Chief, these diocesian Devil Busters will tackle "Extreme Godlessness.

"At last we have a pope who has decided to fight the Devil head-on", said Father Amorth.

Frankly I think this fellow must have read too many of those Dennis Wheatley paperbacks from the charity shop, but watch out you pagan folk out there in Blogland, if a stranger dressed in black asks you if you fancy going for a paddle in the duck pond - run fast, very, very fast!

So if there's something strange,

In the neighbourhood,

Who ya gonna call?

Beelzebub Busters!

More of the same old people getting gongs for being mates with the establishment. I see Parky gets to be called Sir for going on about how they don't make movies like they used to when I were a lad and modern music being rubbish. Kylie gets an OBE for having a nice arse.

Good to Ian Anderson gets something at last but isn't it time people like Ozzy and Lemmy got gongs for still being alive?

No they are fall apart on the very first day you wear them M & S Jeans.

Oh and does the stiching around the fly unravel at home? Oh no on a bloody flight to Edinburgh that's where.

Grrrrrrr