Damn these early morning flights.

What you don't want to hear first thing when jumping into a pre-booked taxi, at 04.30 to go to Heathrow airport...

65 year old driver - "Do you sleep when you have to wake up this early? I got home from a dinner party at 2am and decided I might as well stay awake to drive you to the airport."

Nervous me - "How long have you been awake then?"

Driver - "Oh, didn't sleep to well the night before either, but don't worry, I'll sleep like a baby when I get home."

Damn these early morning flights.

Istanbul Taxi - Incident Report no. 586

I don't think I am going to die in an Istanbul taxi. If after all these years I am still alive, then it has been ordained.

Driving to lunch, still in the middle of the forest and approaching a bend, my driver decides that this is a good time to check his phone messages.

When he veers on to the wrong side of the road and into oncoming traffic, I have the audacity to warn him. He manages to miss the on coming car by centimetres, and then almost annoyed, the driver tells me to calm down, everything is fine.

I know it wasn't only me that panicked - the lady we nearly crashed into was clearly screaming and her eyes were almost popping out of her head.

I think it's time I bought myself a vehicle in Istanbul and took my own life in my own hands. If anyone has a second had Abrams M1 Tank. I am a buyer.

Bad Hair-Cut Day

Fed up of my regular barber stealing my trend setting hairstyle ideas and using them for his "A List" celebratory clients, I decided to experiment with a new backstreet barber.

Unfortunately, not only was the barber not very good at listening to instructions, he wasn't any good at cutting hair.

Only Kim Jong-Un and 5 million North Koreans will appreciate ‘my’ new style.

Going home to wash my hair with my tears now.

Dress Down & Out Friday

There is a definite correlation between rising London temperatures and the falling dressing standards of London men.

Memo: Cut down jeans with ties, and Flip flops with suits are not acceptable even on a Friday, even if the Friday falls on the 13th of the month.

Finally, unless you belong to ISIS or live in Afghanistan, thick beards are sooo 2013.

The Bank of England Governor

The Bank of England Governor

On the London Tube this morning I sat across to a unnamed Bank of England Governor.

He was on his hunched over his iPad, trying to hide it from the people sat next to him, all whilst scribbling something furiously on it.

His occasional pained expression panicked me. What was he reading that worried him so? What was he scribbling? Was it a cure to the problem? Probably not.

I immediately started to mentally note all the UK exposure I had, and how quickly I could liquidate it.

My train stop was before his and as I got up, curiosity got the better of me and I leaned over to see what he was so worried about.

The mid 50’s titan of the banking world wasn't writing a memo or preparing himself for the next disastrous financial crises, but playing Fruit Ninja.

Sell everything. Buy water, long life biscuits and chocolate.

Coffee with milk please

I used to be able to ask for a white coffee, now I have to say an Americano with milk, and then I am asked if I would like a Napoli or Milano blend of coffee, if I would like skimmed, semi-skimmed, or FULL FAT milk, would I like brown, white or poison diet sugar.

I tried switching to something simpler, by asking for tap water. "Yes sir, would you like that filtered or not, with ice or without, with a slice of lemon or without ....

Life is becoming overly complicated.

Speed Test

My last 'long' run before the London Marathon on Sunday. It also happens to be my first long run in quiet a while, and boy did I feel it!

All visions of finishing with a reasonable time have been obliterated, and now the goal is just to finish!

The only really positive part was when a 30mph speed radar flashed as I ran towards it, there wasn't a car in sight and even though I knew I was doing a fraction of that it still felt motivated by it...... That is until I got close to home and bumped into a friend.

I mentioned the speed check flash and he suggested it didn't signal because I was fast, but because I was fat and as heavy as a car.

I need to find new friends.

A little bistro, St. Moritz style ....

Deciding to pop into a local bistro around the corner from the chalet seemed like a good idea at the time.

It turned out to be a Michelin star restaurant frequented by Russian, Italian, Lebanese and Turkish billionaires.

I spent the whole evening praying that my credit card wouldn't bounce and that I could sneak out without drawing attention to my jeans and still wet boots.

I needn't have worried. Billionaires don't pay attention to anyone, and they have a rule - the poorer you are the better dressed you are for dinner. They must have assumed I was a gazillionaire.

How to get great airline service...

I accidentally discovered the secret to great airline service, even on British Airways.

Having spent 3 windswept rainy days in Spain, I casually asked an air stewardess if there was likely to be any air turbulence on the way back to London.

I asked as an amateur metrologist, but was mistaken and immediately marked as a nervous flyer.

From that moment on I recieved attention like I have never before.

I will be using the guise of a nervous passenger for the rest of my life now.

I may even attend the Gullen School of Drama and learn how to cry.

Nothing to be alarmed about..

Sitting in the lounge at Madrid airport, minding my own business. I heard a small bell like noise... Well, more of a tinkle really.

Others sitting around heard it too. Then a British lady said the 'F' word... 'Maybe it's a FIRE alarm?'

A Nigerian man suggested that surely a fire alarm in an airport would be much louder.

The British woman ignored him, sniffed and said she thought she could smell smoke.

That woke everyone up. I couldn't smell anything, but the 'fire alarm' kept stopping and starting.

An American lady said that she thought she could smell smoke too.

The Nigerian man finally decided that he would speak to the reception staff.

It was at this point that I noticed that the alarm wasn't loud, and sounded tinkily for a reason.

There was a cleaner pushing a trolley around the lounge, picking up glasses as she walked about. The 'alarm' noise was from the glasses knocking against each other, and the 'alarm' stopped and started whenever she did.

I contemplated not mentioning it to anyone and watching the 'drama' unfold, but the panicked look of the two ladies  made me pity them.

Sods law, the red faced British lady is now sitting next to me on the plane while we prepare to take off for to head back to Blighty.

I have already prepared a gag for her mouth if she speaks.

Amitabh and me

Apparently I am the spitting image of Amitabh Bachchan.

Running home from St.Pauls this morning, I ran through an area called Whitechapel – mostly a Bengali / Asian area. There seemed to be a lot more people around that normal, some of them dressed very flashily. I just assumed it was a wedding party and carried on running through them.

It was only when I heard someone angrily shout CUT! That I noticed the camera crew for the first time. I had just run through a indian film set making a film in the area. I stopped to apologise, but the directors anger wasn't directed at me, but his security team – they explained that they thought I was Amitabh bahi making a cameo.

Luckily I was the only one that laughed, it was only when running away that I realised that not only had he mistaken me for mega Indian star with half my looks, but one that is in his early 70's.

I better run more often.