You won't be hearing much - if anything - from me tomorrow. I've a meeting at the Canary Wharf headquarters of the Olympics Organising Committee.
I'm imagining that it's something like this:
Mind you, this is my vision of what 'going to London' means. Lines and lines and lines and lines…
After that, it's a slap-up feed in a local hostelry to celebrate the expulsion from Paradise of our colleague Alison, who seems to think that salvation lies in not working here with the rest of us Morlocks. She may be right.
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