The Smoke

Popped up to the smoke for a wander around. Went to the tourist-trap London Dungeon at London Bridge. Very expensive at twenty-three quid each. Bit of a kids` attraction really, with silly bloody waxworks and out-of-work actors reciting well-worn narratives about Jack the Ripper -- and looking mighty bored when you noticed them yawning, picking at spots and furtively putting their hands in their pockets.

Grabbed a sarnie -- and risked the stomach destroying wheat intolerance.

Stuck our heads into the fab gear Tate Modern -- it`s free!!

Strolled across the unshaky Millenium Bridge to see St Pauls, but it was closing to visitors.

Climbed the few hundred steps up the Monument which was built after the Great Fire -- and looked across at Pudding Lane where it all began that fateful night.

Jumped on the incredibly expensive tube to St James Park. Ice-cream. A stroll up Bond Street, wondering who can possibly afford to shop in all those top designer places.

Then stumbled upon Roosevelt and Churchill having a bit of a natter on a bench. I plonked meself down between `em. We talked about the weather and got onto football, but neither of them had watched the World Cup final.

Winnie said he was thirsty as he`d been sittin` there for so long -- so I gave him a guzzle out of my bottle. He took a hefty swig -- but was amazed when I told him I`d had to pay a quid for a plastic bottle of water.

We had a train to catch so I said goodbye and mentioned quickly that I was pleased we won the war. They looked at each-other and you could see the old buggers thinking, "Which one does he mean? Yanks or Brits?"

I winked at Winnie and flicked him a big healthy V sign. Cheers, mate!

.