The Baron Socks.

08/06/2006

Just as Tanya’s Taxis roll up outside the Tower of Glen Trollaigh to carry dearest Dottie and I away to Colonsay, you my dear readers, have forced me to scribble a line or two in defence of my feet.

Many messages have appeared in my inbox this ackemma following the revelation that the baronial feet have swollen after too many days in sandals. I must thank you for the many supportive and helpful comments, to say nothing of the kindly enquiries after my health. However, I have also received a number of abusive and unhelpful comments from the Hungarian Trollaighs, hoping that my swelling will lead to my demise and the reinforcement of their ridiculous claim to the Baronetcy.

Let me reassure you that the answer lies in with the use of German Submariner Socks. I still have a number of pairs these quality items, much better inside boots than finest cashmere. I am confident that the extremities will regain their proper size instanter.

I am particularly cheered by winning a fiver from an eminent QC following the result of the Orange Tommy debacle. Didn’t anyone else spot that all Tommy wanted was a photo opportunity on the BBC news every night for three weeks? The comments from Rosie Kane MSP on the radio this morning have kept me quaking with mirth from bath time till breakfast. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.