…I cannot add much to my esteemed colleague’s assessment of Dave’s urban encomium, except:
LAST SATURDAY my 12-year-old daughter Lily, spontaneously and conveniently, turned and said to me: “I love London, Dad.”
Well last night, my three year old Jack Russell Terrier, spontaneously and conveniently, turned and said to me “I hate it when columnists make up stuff their winsome daughters say to them and then hang a column around it. At least Nixon did it with his dog.”
Then he trotted off to see a band called Vulture at the Apollo – they rocked, apparently – before we all settled down to some bruschetta spread with pedigree chum.