I travelled by train to Edinburgh today to have lunch with the Sheriff. As ever, he was most natilly dressed, sporting a midnight blue coat with matching velvet collar, and a large-brimmed green fedora. It is little wonder that Mrs. Lear holds him up as an example to me - I could look like that, she says, if only I wasn't such a dosser.
Anyway, we made our way from the law courts to a small, grubby Indian restaurant, where self-service curry was the order of the day.
Right next door to it was a sex shop.
" Do you mind walking between me and that shop? Can't get to close to it in my position." Naturally I agreed.
As we passed, a somewhat dowdy middle aged lady emerged from the shop clutching a bag. She spotted the Sheriff and waved at him.
The Sheriff hustled me into the restaurant.
" My next door neighbour," he muttered under his breath