I must admit my choice of bodyguards has been poor. One of them- an ex-Marine- is currently walking in the western Highlands and the other, Theosyphilis Neil, thistlemilk entrepreneur, has only one limb available to fend off attacks and it invariably has a pint of Guinness in it. This unhappily has meant frequent exposure of my person to abuse and assault on the streets of Drumsleet by those who have interpreted my unwilling appearances in the press as an offence to their civic pride. One such mob pursued me down the vennel the other day and on Saturday afternoon, while waiting for a bus to Gatehouse on the next leg of the dynamic Strange Bimbo Tour, I was subjected to a tirade of insults by a woman with no teeth. Happily just at that moment, two bald old men began to fight on the pavement and this caused sufficient diversion for me to slip unnoticed into the coach. Ah how life imitates art.