Wednesday, October 12, 2005
One of the best things about touring with a band is meeting so many nice, interesting people. The other day, in Peterborough, at a Sainsbury’s, we got to meet your Prime Minister, Tony Blair. He turned out to be the weirdest guy! He didn’t speak a word of politics or economics or stuff about the war; he just told us this:

“You know the oddest thing emerged just this weekend from the behaviour [sic] of my cat, whom I call Smallsley. Espying a finch a’perch in the rear-lawn cherry grove, Smallsley fixed his little stare, angled his head just so, giving him rather a mischievous air even if I do say so, and began chattering his teeth against one another, clicking his two rows of ivory together like a set of wind-up dentures. Smallsley went on about this for probably ten minutes before wandering off to topple his milk dish or perform some other minor tyranny. I counted his clicks, and it was two hundred ninety-seven. Enjoy your stay in Britain.”