Last Thursday, as I was entering the hallowed portals of county hall on my way to a meeting of the economic development scrutiny committee, I found myself alongside Cllr Peter Stock.
Jokingly, I told him I was most put out that he had made no attempt to recruit me as a candidate at the forthcoming local elections for either the Tory party, the Independent Political party, or the Tory/Independent Political party.
All this talk of "inclusiveness" was mere propaganda, I suggested.
Cllr Stock informed me that he was definitely not recruiting on behalf of the Tory party.
Indeed, he said, he had never been a Conservative party member.
In that case I owe him a fulsome apology for my description of him as a "Tory Boy" (Tory Boys).
As for the mole who provided this blatantly false information; a parcel of strychnine impregnated worms, artfully disguised as best baluga, is in the post.
Thank goodness, falsely accusing someone of being a Tory is not actionable, or OG and Grumpette would be sleeping under a hedge.
However, Cllr Stock did admit that he had been trying to persuade candidates to run for the Independent Political Group.
Just as well he isn't a card-carrying Tory, then, because working on behalf of a rival political party is grounds for getting you kicked out of the Brownies, or Blueis, in this instance.
I inquired as to why a non-political, political group should be in any way interested in recruiting candidates.
Cllr Stock replied that he felt it important that the IPG should retain its majority on the council.
Now, it has always been my understanding that the reason political parties wish to gain a majority is because the have a programme which they believe will benefit the public at large.
With this in mind, they publish manifestos designed to persuade the electorate of the advantages of voting for them as opposed to the other lot.
"So", I said, "does that mean the Indies will be standing on a party manifesto this time around?"
But, when I glanced around to receive an answer, I found he had disappeared, leaving behind only a rather supercilious grin.
Talking of Tories, Old Grumpy has been sent a copy of an election leaflet put out by Maureen Colgan, a prospective county council Conservative candidate in Pembroke Dock.
She says: "I am standing as a Conservative. I am being honest with you so you have a pretty good idea what my views are likely to be on issues."
So who might it be who is not being "honest" with the electorate?
Our old friends in the Independent Political Group, it would seem.
Striking a blow along the way against the ridiculous, but widely held, notion that there is no place for party politics in local government, Mrs Colgan continues: "At the moment the council is run by the independent [political] group. This may sound good but as they work as a group the concept of parties already exists in the council."
The difference is that regular political parties seek power in order to promote a particular world view, while the driving force behind the IPG is to allow its members to get their hands on the lucrative special resposibility allowances.
Where this leaves political cross dressers like David Wildman, David Bryan, Mark Edwards and Elwyn Morse (but not Peter Stock), who manage to be both card-carrying Tories, and members of the IPG, is a moot point.
I would sugest that, if they really believe that the IPG is a political party, the Conservatives should throw them out.
A mole in London - yes, they're everywhere - informs me that The Hon Rhodri Philipps has gone on trial in Nuremburg on 22 charges connected with the looting of the assets of the German company Brochier (Living it up) (We seek him here . . .) (Volkswagon Polo).
My mole has promised to provide me with further info on Rhodri's extravagant spending habits.
I will keep you posted.
Yet another weekend when Grumpette had to pretend that a cock up by the distributors had left both the Sunday Telegraph and the Sunday Times without a sports' section.
However, I was aware of Saturday's result in Edinburgh from listening to the radio, so the fact that I didn't get to read about it did little to lessen the pain.
I got up 3 am on Sunday morning to tune in to Test Match Special in the hope that Ryan Sidebottom's heroics with the ball might have salvaged something from the wreckage.
It all started promisingly enough with Ian Bell nudging a single to take his score to 54.
Bell comes in at number five, so I calculated that, with Collingwood and Ambrose still to come, England were in with a fighting chance.
Then I heard the words: "That leaves Panesaar on strike", and I realised the game was up, literally.
A few seconds later, the commentator announced the score: 109 for 9.
The only consolation is that I hadn't got up got up an hour earlier, as intended, when the score was 79 for 9.
PS England's women' rugby team thrashed Scotland - running in five tries in the process - and are now on course for a grand slam.
PPS Would WS please forward instructions for delivery of the bottle of Merlot. Given his occupation, I assume he wouldn't want it dropped off at his place of work (You win some and ...).
Unfortunately, in my case the second part of the headline seems to be the default position.
A couple of years ago,Grumpette's glasses couldn't be found.
They eventually turned up in the chest freezer.
The theory is that G was rooting around in the cabinet looking for something for dinner when her glasses fell off, unnoticed.
It is not so easy to explain how her missing purse recently made the same journey.
One of my daughters e-mailed to ask if this was a case of frozen assets and that nobody could accuse G of handling hot money.
On a rather more sinister note, the other daughter suggested: "At least if Dad goes missing, we know where to look".
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