Abba Will Kill Me
I'm going for sushi tonight. It's highly likely that while I am there someone will kill me. There won't be any fuss. It will be very quiet, it won't happen immediately but my fate is sealed.
Of course I'm not talking about my lovely girlfriend who'll be there without, I hope, murderous intent. No I'm talking about the Polonium-B-loving Russian secret service. They are going to kill me, I know this because what I am about to write is the kind of information that could bring the country crashing to its knees.
I could forget what I know. I could look the other way. I could; but I won't. I owe it it to you. I owe it to myself.
So, this is it. Four little words: Putin danced to Abba.
"Whoa! Get down! If you ever speak of this I'll make a hat from your lungs"
There, I've done it, that is a relief. He denies it of course. As would anyone who had danced to Abba, (yes, yes, it's great pop, but it's still as musically interesting as sand) or who set up a private concert with Abba tributary Bjorn Again.
God bless.
Read it here last.