George W Bush

I saw GW yesterday morning. Apparently he's in town to 'hold talks' or something, but really I think he's here for a jolly, making the most of his last few months on the presidential expense account. I mean, how else can you account for his proximity to top tourist destination Madame Tussauds?


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Anyway - having peacefully cycled most of the way to work, traffic was quite rudely interrupted by a Policeman on a motorbike, with a whistle. Very hi-tech, yes. Anyway, having transformed the junction of Marylebone Road and Gloucester Place into a one man techno party of flashing lights, luminous vests and loud whistling, he settled us in to wait as GW rolled past in a limo. Follwed by another limo with some other people in. Then an armoured Land Rover with a tooled up SWAT team in. Then some soldiers in a truck, another limo, a minibus (WTF?), two police vans full of Met officers, about six more motorbikes (with whistles), more four-by-fours with secret service suits in and a couple more limos for good measure.

This took all of about ten minutes to unfold during which time I was frantically racking my limited brains for something hilarious to do to protest about war, or oil, or buying elections, or playing golf while the world burns, but unfortunately, without anything much to hand - a bike, a bike helmet, a packed lunch? I had to sit quietly at the lights while whistly police man glared at me, whistling occasionally to stop people from going about their normal business.

Missed opportunity - if only I had a banner, or even an FCUK BSUH* T-shirt to wear...

Ah well. A friend tells me that the insane entourage is not unusual and when Bill CLinton visited his (entourage) was just as big, and we all liked him, apparently.

* That's a Mark Thomas joke by the way - I'm not claiming credit for it!