Ooh...Ahh....Arrrgghhh.

My agent Bernie Shimshelwitz’s annual charity fireworks extravaganza was a bit of a let down this year. Instead of the usual plethora of breath taking fireworks Bernie had gone all in with one huge firework ominously called ‘END OF DAYS.’ Bernie had apparently got it for a steal off John McCain’s campaign manager and was well excited at the prospect of its cataclysmic contents. Once lit it became apparent that the gathering crowd were not about to witness the end of days but rather a series of random wisps of smoke followed by one rapid fire of rockets that managed to decimate the marquee and destroy Mrs S’s signature dessert (tiramisu.) I spent most of the night talking to egghead historian David Starkey who told me that he always found it a shame that no-one ever remembered Guy Fawkes’ younger brother Toni. Apparently he was in charge of the plotter’s hairdos and was killed when his GHD’s blew up. Gutted.