THERE has been an increased interest in my private life recently, befitting a bloke who writes a must-read blog. So much so, in fact, that I seem to have acquired a press secretary.
Now, when I tell you it's Withers then I can imagine some would have a few misgivings. But to be fair, the wonderful one is pulling it off brilliantly. In The Yard on Boozeday the questions began flying thick and fast about how I had spent my weekend, who I was with and suchlike. Yet before I could answer, my new spin doctor stepped in to fight off the press pack with an aplomb usually associated with Alastair Campbell.
"In future I would ask you to address all questions to me," he responded with decorum.
And when they did exactly this he came up with: "Is that all you've got, honorable gentlemen of the press? When you have some facts come back to me."
As another hack waded in he didn't turn a hair, using the straightest of straight bats to make even the great Geoffrey Boycott proud. "You are on a fishing expedition, my friend," he smoothly replied.
Unfortunately, he told some of the pub lobby that he would be quite willing to conduct an "off-the-record briefing" when his client was "in the loo". I've had my legs crossed ever since. Not that I have anything to hide, you understand.
As for things you would rather keep secret, the Prince of Darkness let his guard slip. The Dark one apparently believes that every child should own a knife, cub scout style.
True to his beliefs he therefore bought a small, sharp implement for his 12-year-old son Felix. "Now go out and play," he ordered the youngster before opening the fridge and removing his third stella of the morning.
Sadly this story does not have a happy ending. A few minutes later the young lad was back, blood pouring from a finger wound.
"I just forgot to teach him to whittle away from his body," revealed the PoD.
I hear on the grapevine the Social Services are poised to act.
Last night my spin doctor and I went on to the Rummer Tavern, from where I went home to listen to my new Kaiser Chiefs CD while he stumbled in the other direction. My first port of call was City Pizza on City Road where I looked at the menu, then opted for the Meat Feast pizza before demanding extra chillis. Pretty hot stuff.
After eating the majority of the 12 inch inferno I lay on the bed listening to my CD, fully intending to watch the Liverpool v Barcelona Champions League second leg. I woke at 9.50pm, just as Steve Ryder was wrapping up the programme. Doh!