This is obv not a fashion blog, there are no pictures of me hanging off lampposts sucking in my cheeks posing in my new heels. Though I do that quite a lot I’m usually just waiting for the bus. BUT I need to have a brief rant about some sartorial issues here – because the world is looking at us Londoners this week. Honestly the state of some people – you might be on the Underground but you don’t need to look like blimmin cavemen. Tsk. But I appear to be alone on this, I got banned from speaking the other night after I let some steam off.

I don’t care what anyone thinks of the Olympics hitting town, I can’t WAIT. Admittedly it does help that I have a reverse commute through a park, so no mini-meltdowns on public transport for me. But I confess a small part of me would love to observe a citywide meltdown, a Londinium apocalypse. But then I do want our 1m or so guests to take away a positive impression and not pity us for being a bunch of washed up, sodden, limeys trying to make the best of a pitiful infrastructure. But the heat is rising and rising – all that army cammo in town, it’s great! And the super yachts negotiating their way up river? Lemme on.

It’ll be everything I can do to refrain from haranguing Olympic tourists in the street and getting them set on the right track to enjoy themselves and eek out some quality. I’ll be dragging them out of the Angus Steakhouse by their hair, sabotaging Trafalgar Square with Fairy liquid in the fountains. Go on, get in touch visitors, I’ll set you on the right path. I’ll bill Boris.

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