THE first part of my long-delayed 40th Anniversary Tour is booked, it starts in a week’s time, all details are at on the header picture at facebook.com/attilathestockbroker and I am so looking forward to finally getting out on the road to commemorate four decades earning my living doing what I love. Carefully, with mask in place where necessary, in contrast to Johnson’s disgusting opportunism.
 
And glory be, I have THREE actual gigs in Scotland, one of which isn’t in either Glasgow or Edinburgh! I have never as played many gigs north of the border as I would have liked to. I want to redress that now, so if anyone up there would like to put me on in the future please get in touch. Here’s a poem for you.
 
Auld Acquaintance
My old paternal ancestors were Scottish, hence the name.
(I don’t mean ‘Stockbroker’ of course, I mean my real one, Baine)
A line of Greenock coopers, enclosers of good ale.
But there is little solace for the saltire in this tale.
The last one moved to South London in roughly 1840
So claims of Scottish ancestry would really be quite naughty.
I went to Greenock Morton once to check out the old hood.
They were at home to Hibs that day, and they weren’t very good.
The Hibees were no better, the game finished nil-nil
And, truth to tell, would be the same if they were playing still.
 
The “government” sink to new depths: corrupt, lying,venal. Even John Major says Johnson should resign. Johnson’s response is to testiculate about lifting Covid restrictions early and refuse to retract his slurs about Starmer protecting Jimmy Savile.

And Starmer’s reaction, libelled as a “paedophile protector” by a bully deliberately seeking the support of far-right scum, some of whom went on to physically threaten him as a direct result, and who refuses to apologise? Pathetic. Me, I’d have decked the bloke. I know the Leader of the Opposition can’t do that, but he could at least have fronted him properly.
 
I am bending over backwards to hold on to some idea of Labour unity, but forget the politics: as a man, if he won’t physically, angrily face down a pompous, cowardly, entitled windbag who insults him in such a disgusting way, then he’s no leader in my eyes, whatever the policies. We need some passion, and at the moment there’s none.
 
Meanwhile,Rees Mogg has just been appointed minister for Brexit opportunities, government efficiency, finding new clothes for emperors and identifying the complex melodies in Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music. He’ll also be fronting Radio Two’s new Sunday afternoon show Sing Something Stockhausen.
 
And he will be completely bollocks at all of that, but his personal wealth will go up a couple of million in the meantime. He should be nationalised without compensation and the proceeds given to the food banks he finds so “uplifting.”
 
I had my first senior moment the other day. My Seagulls season ticket reminder had popped up a couple of times, so I filled in the renewal form. Up came the price. £370.

Bloody hell, that’s cheap, I thought.