Alex69

[b]AS[/b] part of my military training many, many beards ago I was sent to a summer boot camp in the far reaches of Northumberland. This consisted largely of early doors reveille, plenty of porridge and lots of competitive sport (footy, podex and cross country running). We were also required to keep our bell tents spotlessly tidy. Anything less than perfection after the daily inspection and you were in trouble, with the punishment varying between being staked out in the middle of the night by rope and tent pegs or simply being lobbed naked into the nearby stream. It didn’t do me any harm, however, and I embraced the thing to such an extent that they asked me back to run the whole shebang in years to come. One could say the poacher had become gamekeeper. [b]I digress. [/b]I do...

[b]YOU’LL[/b] all be delighted to hear that I’m a superb tennis player. I’ve won several events, home and abroad, and have been asked to turn pro on several occasions. Obviously, being in the employ of Her Majesty’s Secret Service precludes any long-term commitment to the most noble racquet sport of them all. Besides, as I’m such a dab hand at darts and cue sports too I’d be loath to knock any of the aforementioned on the head in favour of one or the other. [b]I digress. [/b] With Wimbledon just around the corner I’ll be dusting down the DB9 and heading down to a lady friend’s gaff just off High Street Kensington in order to be near enough to pick up the tube, call in and check out some of the action. Despite being a superb player myself, I have to admit that not all...

[b]EVERYONE[/b] loves a diary. Let’s face it, we’ve all heard of Adrian Mole. People are intrinsically nosey and, like a legion of voyeurs, enjoy nothing more than to rubberneck at other folks’ lives. Imagine my surprise, then, when I came across one of my old diaries the other day. Now I’m not what you would call a show-off, nor am I prone to exaggeration, but I have to say that Samuel Pepys, Anne Frank and Bridget Jones have nothing on me, nor are they anywhere near as prolific. I might even share an extract with you all in despatches to come, but first let me tell you what I’ve been up to lately. Some of the local yokels have been on at me about sorting out a local gangster who has been peddling spice to paraffins, walking about like he’s number one and generally causing...

[b]HELLO[/b], good afternoon and welcome to my latest blog. I’ve been chilling in the home counties since I got back from my little trip to the Bahamas as both my castles in Scotland are currently being renovated in time for Hogmanay (I’ll be flying between each in my helicopter at various parts of the night just to make sure everyone’s being properly entertained. I’ve got some of the lads from the Bay City Rollers playing at one, and two – hopefully three – members of Runrig doing a couple of numbers at the other). My third castle – in Spain – is currently out of action largely due to the fact that large parts of it have had an attack of Verdigris and I’m having difficulties getting the right quality of obreros in. To ensure there'll be no unwelcome visitors, a small ...

[b]SO[/b] the sands of time are slipping away like nobody’s business. Once again, it seems like forever ago that I last treated you to one of my blogs and a lot has happened in my life since then. Being the addictive personality I am, I’ve attracted a load of followers through the various social media channels over the last few months while becoming addicted to a number of things myself – booze, drugs, women and ‘the high life’ being the chief four. I don’t count gambling and spying as addictions – they’re simply a means to an end. How else am I supposed to keep three Astons on the road and pay the heating bills on two castles in Scotland? [b]I digress.[/b] With my aforementioned Scottish hideaways in mind, there’s a fixture tonight that is worth a look if you fancy...

[b]HELLO,[/b] good evening & welcome to my latest blog. Something very weird happened when I last threw a couple of tips out from the East Wing of my sprawling country manor house. They both lost. I'm rarely lost for words, but... ... ... ... ... ... ... I digress. I've been suffering some pretty tough times of late. I had to get shot of the vacuum cleaner (to be fair, it was only gathering dust), I had to play a game of snooker behind enemy lines (more about this later) and my football team of choice hasn't won a league match all season. So, about the snooker. I was recently invited by a dear relative of mine (yup, he cost the best part of a million to buy) for a few games of snooker at the local Conservative Club. Obvs, this went against all my extreme socialist principles...

[b]HELLO[/b], good afternoon and welcome to my latest blog post. I received some crushing news this morning. I subscribe to Wrecking Ball & Demolition Weekly and it arrived with a thud on my velvet doormat. I digress. As I’ve been particularly busy lately, sorting out minor criminals with the type of justice generally only meted out by superheroes in capes, I haven’t managed to help you all out with my words of wisdom as often as I’d like. What I have identified, however, are two tremendous tips for this weekend’s football and snooker. I know you hang onto my every word like a bat on a branch so I’ll keep it short and sweet today as kick-off time is rapidly approaching and while I have an ego the size of Stephen Fry’s brain I would never deprive you of pre-match drinking ...

[b]HELLO,[/b] good morning and welcome to my latest blog. Snooker has to be the most sedentary sport in the world. The contestants are even lazier than darts players. Let’s face it, how many times have you seen a darts player ask the ref for a rest? Furthermore, the dress code has got to be the most bonkers of all sports. “Mum, I’m just off for a game of snooker with my mates.” “Okay son, don’t forget your waistcoat, bow tie and ridiculous spats.” [b]It also features some of life’s more bizarre eccentrics.[/b] Dechawat Poomjaeng, for example (the one who looks like Pixie out of the old TV series Monkey), was described by Stephen Maguire as ‘not the full shilling’. That’s pretty extreme if you ask me. Put it this way, if I was ever on Who Wants To Be A ...

[b]HELLO,[/b] good morning & welcome to my latest blog. Yes, it's been a while, but you know how it is. I've been ducking and diving more than a bathysphere lately so haven't had time to share my wisdom with you all. Nevertheless, I hope this note reaches you well. I was lucky enough to be invited to a posh Christmas bash the other day. It was held in the grounds of my old Eton chum Bert Tottington-Smith’s mansion in the home counties. I can’t reveal the exact location as I’m under a non-disclosure agreement, but if you type ‘big, posh houses in the south of England’ into google you’ll get some idea of how grandiose it is. Put it this way, the marquee in the front lawn was bigger than an average circus tent. There were loads of monied people there and to be honest ...