I wish the news outlets could find another photo.

[Pat Vegas]

I am sick and tired of looking at that fat prick dead on the floor.

[Sir C]

I am sick and tired of looking at that fat prick dead on the floor.

I walked down Birdcage Walk to Parliament Square yesterday afternoon. Roads were blocked off and there is still no pedestrian access to the square. Lots of tourists taking selfies as well as locals tutting because they had to detour their journey. A few people staring across towards Westminster bridge, one lady gently weeping. Huge police presence, more than at White Hart Lane when we visit. And very, very quiet, not a voice raised or a laugh or a shout, just the drone of the helicopter overhead.

Then to King Charles Street, where big notices had been put up saying 'no pedestrian access', being roundly ignored by a stead6y stream cutting through the FCO to reach Whitehall. Whitehall also closed to traffic and therefore weirdly quiet until someone behind me began screaming, really loudly. It was instantly clear which pedestrians were tourists, for they started from their reverie and began peering to see the source of the disturbance, whilst the locals took absolutely no interest and hurried on to their next appointment.

Later in the evening Soho was functioning absolutely as normal until the police started closing roads apparently at random. There was more tutting about the inconvenience but no one even asked why the roads were being closed.

I was quietly proud, overall.

[Burney]

I walked down Birdcage Walk to Parliament Square yesterday afternoon. Roads were blocked off and there is still no pedestrian access to the square. Lots of tourists taking selfies as well as locals tutting because they had to detour their journey. A few people staring across towards Westminster bridge, one lady gently weeping. Huge police presence, more than at White Hart Lane when we visit. And very, very quiet, not a voice raised or a laugh or a shout, just the drone of the helicopter overhead.

Then to King Charles Street, where big notices had been put up saying 'no pedestrian access', being roundly ignored by a stead6y stream cutting through the FCO to reach Whitehall. Whitehall also closed to traffic and therefore weirdly quiet until someone behind me began screaming, really loudly. It was instantly clear which pedestrians were tourists, for they started from their reverie and began peering to see the source of the disturbance, whilst the locals took absolutely no interest and hurried on to their next appointment.

Later in the evening Soho was functioning absolutely as normal until the police started closing roads apparently at random. There was more tutting about the inconvenience but no one even asked why the roads were being closed.

I was quietly proud, overall.

I understand the anti-Brexit march is still to go ahead tomorrow - although it still won't stop me having to meet my father in law.

How's the haircut? Do you look like a freshly-tonsured Cistercian?

[Sir C]

I understand the anti-Brexit march is still to go ahead tomorrow - although it still won't stop me having to meet my father in law.

How's the haircut? Do you look like a freshly-tonsured Cistercian?

Are you meeting in the west end then?

The glw is full of praise for the do, do it must be ok.

[Burney]

Are you meeting in the west end then?

The glw is full of praise for the do, do it must be ok.

South Ken, so we should be safe from the unbridled fury of the Remoaners.

I've really no idea what this march is actually demonstrating about. I mean, wouldn't the time to have had a big demo about Brexit have been before the vote rather than four days before we trigger Article 50?

[Sir C]

South Ken, so we should be safe from the unbridled fury of the Remoaners.

I've really no idea what this march is actually demonstrating about. I mean, wouldn't the time to have had a big demo about Brexit have been before the vote rather than four days before we trigger Article 50?

They've been arguing amongst themselves about it, I see. The original demand was supposed to be 'Stop Brexit', but the organisers realised they were a bit late with this demand so changed it to 'Stop Hard Brexit', which caused the A C Grayling-type hard liners to have a meltdown.

What a waste of a day. And all that police overtime! We're paying for that.

[redgunamo]

Apart from Pepys himself obviously.

I walked down Birdcage Walk to Parliament Square yesterday afternoon. Roads were blocked off and there is still no pedestrian access to the square. Lots of tourists taking selfies as well as locals tutting because they had to detour their journey. A few people staring across towards Westminster bridge, one lady gently weeping. Huge police presence, more than at White Hart Lane when we visit. And very, very quiet, not a voice raised or a laugh or a shout, just the drone of the helicopter overhead.

Then to King Charles Street, where big notices had been put up saying 'no pedestrian access', being roundly ignored by a stead6y stream cutting through the FCO to reach Whitehall. Whitehall also closed to traffic and therefore weirdly quiet until someone behind me began screaming, really loudly. It was instantly clear which pedestrians were tourists, for they started from their reverie and began peering to see the source of the disturbance, whilst the locals took absolutely no interest and hurried on to their next appointment.

Later in the evening Soho was functioning absolutely as normal until the police started closing roads apparently at random. There was more tutting about the inconvenience but no one even asked why the roads were being closed.

I was quietly proud, overall.

[Sir C]

Apart from Pepys himself obviously.

Later, to Temper, where lumps of beef, pork lamb and goat are barbecued before one's eyes by bearded, tattooed chefs of hipsterist type, served on terrific flatbreads and garnished with sauces and 'sprinkles' on of which is finely ground beef and onion Monster Munch. The outer reaches of the lengthy wine list yielded a decidedly supple French Malbec; just the thing for a meaty spring evening. On a trip to the lavatory I was forced to wait at the sink whilst the chap ahead of me attended to his make up and took ages so to do; one wonders whether these fellows shouldn't be taught to smear their rouge with more rapidity?

[Burney]

Later, to Temper, where lumps of beef, pork lamb and goat are barbecued before one's eyes by bearded, tattooed chefs of hipsterist type, served on terrific flatbreads and garnished with sauces and 'sprinkles' on of which is finely ground beef and onion Monster Munch. The outer reaches of the lengthy wine list yielded a decidedly supple French Malbec; just the thing for a meaty spring evening. On a trip to the lavatory I was forced to wait at the sink whilst the chap ahead of me attended to his make up and took ages so to do; one wonders whether these fellows shouldn't be taught to smear their rouge with more rapidity?

Any whores?

Beef and onion Monster Munch? Really? Something about that provokes my 'fvck off!' reflex, I fear.

[Sir C]

Any whores?

Beef and onion Monster Munch? Really? Something about that provokes my 'fvck off!' reflex, I fear.

You don't have to have it, it's entirely voluntary.

The food is fúcking remarkable.