Dear Bill,

Action stations, old man, just got word that She Who Must Be Obeyed has finally popped her clogs and will be with us in a jiffy just as soon as she clears celestial passport control and Lord help St Peter if he decides to ask her too many questions. (Though I suppose in this case the Good Lord will be handy if needed.)

Well, we knew the blessed interlude couldn’t last, more’s the pity, so I’m gathering Maurice and all the old chums for a tincture or two in honour at the 19^th hole as soon as poss. Trust you can join us for a few rounds of the electric soup before her Bossiness puts in an appearance and upsets the apple cart for all eternity.

Don’t know if you’ve been watching the Bolshevik Broadcasting Corporation’s coverage of the obsequies. Letting all sorts of left-wing loonies get it off their chests. Balanced reporting my Aunt Fanny. And I know you’ve never rated that Cameron, too clever by half I think you said. But I thought he said the right things, even if you couldn’t believe a word he says.

And trust that smarmy Blair to come over all gooey-eyed – never had a good idea that wasn’t Maggie’s. But he at least had the common decency to have a go at those revolting Picts dancing in celebration with their boots stomping over the old girl’s phizog. After what she did for them. Didn’t that Alex Salmond say that she’d done more for Scottish independence than anyone since Braveheart? You’d think even louts from the Gorbals could appreciate that.

But I wanted to have word with you anyway about accommodation. I was wondering if you had any pull on the billeting committee, only the word round here is that they’re readying a place just down the road for this Nelson Mandela fellow.

Now it’s not that Maggie and I would have anything against what Carol, bless her, would call a golliwog for a neighbour. At least not for public consumption if you get my drift. But I’m not sure how Maggie will react to a terrorist in the neighbourhood. Could get unpleasant if they bumped into each other down at the shops or something, I’m sure you understand.

I mean to say, where were they thinking of putting that awful Chavez person? I’m assuming he’s been sent below decks, so whatever pro tem digs were prepared for him, they must be empty now and would be absolutely ideal for this Mandela. Fuzzy-wuzzies don’t play golf so the 18 holes here would be no use to him and he’d be much happier among his own kind anyway, wouldn’t he? That sort always is.

And while I’m on the topic, do you have any idea how that Pinochet chappie is getting on with his appeal? He’s been sitting in limbo for what seems like eternity and I realize it can’t be easy what with more stuff being dragged up in the newspapers all the time, but I was hoping there was some way of putting in a good word. Without jeopardizing one’s own position, of course.

The chap’s no saint, granted, but then are any of us? I’ve never got over how old Biffy Smythe managed to squeak in here after his notorious after-hours with that widow who lived just off the 14^th fairway at Royal Sandwich. But Pinochet was as solid as a brick behind Maggie over that Falklands do and I know there’ll be hell to play if he’s not here to greet her.

Well, must go and get ready for a red carpet operation when she arrives. Do try to make it for the celebratory snifters.

Cheers

Denis

PS Stop the presses. Just got wind that there’s been a commotion at the pearly gates. Seems all was going well till they tried to take her handbag off her on the grounds of it being an offensive weapon. Some Frog wallah claiming past cases of GBH at EU negotiations. And of course the Boss was having none of that so she’s been sent away to cool her heels till they sort it all out. Anyway, drinks still on, but don’t you dare walk in just when it’s my round.