WHERE am I?
No, I haven’t woken up after a hard night on the drink.
It’s just that I always write my Examiner column on the Thursday before publication day and when I began to write this one last Thursday I had no idea what page it was going to be on in the first tabloid Examiner.
Of course this is working on the reckless assumption that it’s even going to be in the paper at all.
It might be the case that the Editor, Mr Butt, whom, God preserve, has decided that he doesn’t like this one and it’s been spiked and left for dead.
This prompts more questions. Am I writing to no good purpose because nobody will be reading my words?
Is it worth carrying on with it? And will I still get my money?
In this surreal set of circumstances I see no option other than carry on writing. But what to write?
This is another question and one which I have to ask myself every Thursday.
Let me think. What was in last week’s Examiner for me to sink the claws of my wit into?
There’s poor old Watty. Nothing amusing there, especially from his point of view.
The Isle of Man’s first woman deputy High Bailiff? No, don’t even think about going there. Remember your last encounter with a High Bailiff. The Isle of Man’s celebration of the Royal Wedding?
There is one thing I can seize upon in this regard. After President Obama’s televised speech telling of the killing of Osama Bin Laden, the on-air news presenter on the Fox News Channel 5 in Washington said excitedly: ‘President Obama, speaking from the East Room at the White House, telling the nation and the world that President Obama is in fact dead . . .’
As for events in the Isle of Man, Manx Radio’s Marc Tyley was doing outside broadcasts from street parties and he asked one little boy what he was looking forward to on the big day.
The boy said: ‘Crisps and sausages.’
What else? The going is getting a little tough today.
It might be worth speculating on when the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge might be visiting the Isle of Man. Surely it must be soon.
After all, Anglesey isn’t all that far away and he does have his own helicopter. They would be two more names to add to this summer’s tourist arrival figures.
Time now for me to check on the wordage achieved so far.
I’m still short. Memories of my early days working on the Examiner? No. I have been padding out my columnar brassiere with this kind of thing too often already.
Hang on, though. Have I ever told my readers about the pretty girl who worked in the Examiner machine room when I was a junior reporter? No? Right.
It was like this. I fancied her and I could tell that she fancied me so I laid my plans for asking her out and they worked, and (what follows is really hot stuff), she had a few drinks and she invited me back to her place and there she . . .
Oh. It looks like I’ve filled up the column for this week. Sorry.
THIS is where I list the latest Songs for Swinging Manxmen. But they’re too good to waste if I’m not in the paper.