I know your secrets, Daley!

Readers of this blog will know that I have the upmost respect for Tom Daley. I am a great admirer of his tanning skills. But I’ve recently been amazed to find out young Daley has another string to his bow. Yup, when he’s not bouncing on the boards, the little tan machine in racing up the rankings in women’s tennis.

It’s quite remarkable. When not diving he’s moonlighting as a former Junior Wimbledon Champion. Am I the only one who’s worked out his rouse? Surely there must be others out there who’ve uncovered his scheme?

He’s a clever lad you know. This makes sure he will definitely win Young Sportsperson of the Year at Christmas.

Back from the brink

Finally, after months of appeals, the filth have let me go. That’s right, the rozzers collared me after the France/England game for urinating on a Citroen. Now, I know for a fact that the French aren’t averse to a bit of public golden shower action and I’m sure they’d have let me go had I been pissing all over a Volkswagon or a Toyota. But because I’d chosen this particular 2CV, I was toast.

I tried to reason with them in my fluent Frenglish but, as I’m sure you can imagine, whatever a refreshed Englishman says it inevitably doesn’t wash with the froggy fuzz. I was carted off to spend the night at monsieur Sarkozy’s pleasure. I was only supposed to be held overnight but due to a monstrous clerical mix-up the cunt waffle pigs thought I was an Algerian pimp called Gillaume. I was, quite simply, boned.

After four months of waking up to the sight, sound, and smell of a Togolese transvestite crack dealer squeezing one out into the toilet hole next to my bed I was free. And now I’m back in Blighty ready to take on the world again.

Obviously I missed the second England Australia match. The greatest England performance since the world cup final 2003 [salutes dramatically]. But I’m not fussed. We’ve won down under against the old enemy and the confidence is back. Bring on the Autumn.