Peter, or Your Lordship as he likes to be called, introduced me to his doctor. He suggested I took some strong tablets because he thought I was looking a bit peely wally but I refused until he gave in and put them on a teaspoon with my favourite Scottish loganberry jam. I have to keep a sharp eye on Peter. He wants me to sign a Power of Attorney in case I "become incapacitated". I have no intention of becoming incapacitated surrounded as I am by traitors and anyway he doesn't know that I've already signed one in favour of Dougie, or maybe it was Ed.
Barroso has put out the word already about the need to honour my great achievements in the field of economics. The Italian mafia have responded with a proposal to honour me with a Nobel Prize which of course I shall accept to please the Committee. The Ities want something in return of course which I'm sure can be arranged. I like to spread my largesse far and wide except among the English who must be kept away from quangoes, art galleries, the BBC and the House of Lords at all costs.
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