PIPING UP

Bloggiana's old friend Bored has just rolled into town from Istanbul where he has been hiding since he dressed up as Her Royal Majesty during the Trooping The Colour Ceremony back in 1982 and waltzed down HorseGuards Parade in the arms of a blow-up Santa.

Back then, Bloggiana and Bored shared many adventures together and even today Bored's arrest-moment, when Bloggiana - dressed as a horse - tried to save him and Bored - in full garter robes - tried to be saved and they both - as they were being carted off to prison - burst into a spontaneous a capella version of Singing in the Reindeer, can reduce them to hopeless dribbly hysterics.

So the fact of Bored's arrival should cause Bloggiana's tired old heart to sing. She should be dropping everything, buying in bulk quantities of PG and cigs, ironing her feather boas, putting on her best chat hat and chatting. She should be getting out her favourite Cleveland Bay outfit, donning her mane and tail, practising her neigh, pawing the ground and reliving old times as surely they deserve to be relived.

But instead of all that, Bloggiana is so distracted that she barely notices Bored's presence.

Fancy a drive round and we can go and bark at the locals? ventures the Ottoman one, whose impersonation of a Jack Russell is one of his favourite turns.

Hmm, comes the reply.

Or how about we dig around in your dressing up cupboard? You can be Sonny and I'll be Cher. Or you can be a lamb and I'll be little Bo Peep.

Bloggiana barely lifts her head out of her elbows.

Happily Bored is not one to be put off and he goes to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, contentedly growling to himself as he does so. Beside the kettle, it so happens there is an opened letter and on the paper are some instructions and Bored reads them and bursts into peals of untrammelled Cappodochian laughter.

Bloggiboots, he exclaims. What's all this about you entering the Winston Churchill Tribute Evening Championships? Darling, how absolutely thrilling!

A problem shared is a problem halved, they say. Bloggiana hears Bored giggling over the idea of her getting in touch with her inner Winston. She hears Cappodochian shepherds dancing in the mountains to the tune of her old friend's mirth. She sees Cappodochian lambs veritably skipping to their masters' dance. And instead of plunging her head deeper into her chest, she perks up.

You really think so? she asks, clearing her throat so that her contralto tunes down to baritone. You really think the thing's a good idea?

Bored lets out another peal of giggles. Darling, course I do. Best idea I heard of since Kellogg invented the Pop-Tart. Now come on darling, time we got down to the nitty-gritty. Time for instantaneous plannobrations.

At which the bottle of Arak, the bottle of suspect foreign import brandy, two beakers and a serving spoon are placed upon the table. And Bored and Bloggiana settle down to the important business of discussing Winston Churchill Tribute Evening tactics.