It doesn’t rain, it pours and I’m not just talking about the weather. No sooner was I back from
Problems on the home front as well. Mrs Cashman has changed the locks and is looking to become Mrs half-my-cashwoman. It’s all come from laying off the au pair, following a bit of financial restructuring. Mrs C for once in her life took it upon herself to take a few of my suits down to the dry-cleaners and wallop, mayhem. I told her the Cheshire Companions gold card wasn’t mine but she wasn’t having any of it. If this one goes all the way to court it could cost me big time.If it weren’t for the tax-crazy President Brown and his Jocko pal, that one with the eyebrows, I’d say that it might be time to start cashing in on a few ventures. I’m weighing up a tactical move to
I’ve considered packing up and heading for the Land of the Free before now, but it looks like they might be taking leave of their senses again by sticking Slick Willy Clinton’s Doris in the Oval Office – so to speak.
The Yanks have got it right, apart from Tom “Hicksy” Hicksy and his pal George Gillett, owners of Liverpool FC, who are finding out what a touchy lot the Scousers can be. Mexicans and Puerto Ricans for a taco an hour, that’s the
Give Hicksy his due, he said he’d pull off the refinancing of the club and he has. Wish I had his bankers - every bank in town seems to have forgotten what a track record is and I’ve frankly had enough. It’s off to the