Sex with Bill Clinton

When I was about 25, I met a much older friend as I was running down the street one day, quite early in the morning. He asked me where I was going, and I told him 'to work'.

He gave me a stern look and said, "Never EVER run to work. No matter how late you are, NEVER run to work."

I took his advice to heart, and the only time I have run since was to try and make a connecting flight at Schipol Airport. I missed the plane.

I had a policy of 'no running' when crossing roads as aggressive drivers bore down on me without slowing down before I received the work advice from my older friend. I still try to maintain a sense of calm authority when confronted by cars which seem intent on killing me, but it is becoming more difficult these days.

Drivers are losing their respect for red lights more and more, and most of them seem not to understand that pedestrians always have the right of way in this country. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that you hardly ever see police in the streets now, or if you do they are in a car and breaking the speed limit. I would definitely run out of their way.

I have never been a good runner though, and with everything which is going on with my legs, hips and knees I am almost incapable of it. My legs look like giant white Twiglets (a savoury snack - see above).

Because I was very tall and gangly as a kid, I was entered as a potential star in the school cross-country annual events every year, and every year I came last.

Not just last, but spectacularly last. One year I was so last that I was mistaken for the winner of the second race until the headmaster stopped the applause from all the assembled parents at the finish line by explaining the true situation over the Tannoy.

I have just looked out of the window and spotted a friend of mine who once had sex with Bill Clinton. This seems as good a place to stop as any and a good enough title for this post.