THE VIEW FROM HERETHE wonderful news of Samantha Cameron’s new baby came, regrettably, too late for my reference last week to their holiday snapshot to be pulled from this page.
I am mortified I described the Camerons as "looking soppy and doing nothing on some beach in Cornwall". I realise now this was very wrong of me and should like to apologise unreservedly to our revered leader and his lovely wife.
Far from "doing nothing", it appears Samantha may actually have been in labour while the photographers snapped away. Yes, even as she stood there, coolly elegant in her gorgeous floaty dress, she was experiencing the early pangs of childbirth, probably performing some beautiful breathing exercises, which I foolishly confused with "looking soppy".
Well, how was I to know? In my experience, women in the final stages of pregnancy do not tog themselves up in some chic outfit and waft along to the beach. Any normal woman just heaves herself on to her bed and lies there panting, grumbling and popping indigestion tablets, while wearing nothing more glamorous than a dressing-gown and a vast pair of Mothercare maternity knickers.
I had no idea Samantha was not like the rest of us in this respect. Naturally, I knew she was posh and had a job involving expensive leather (in a good way, I hasten to add) but I never imagined she’d spend the last hours of her pregnancy all dolled up and looking soppy.
No, sorry, not soppy. Serene. Heroic. That’s it.
Anyway, mega-sorry to the Camerons.
And I would like to ask Samantha (and David if he can make it) to come to visit us on the Island. This is a reverse gesture to that of the Emma Thompson style of invitation, when somebody insults the Island and we ask them to come and see how nice we really are.
The Cameron one is when we (or, more accurately, me) insult somebody and we (me again) ask them to come and see how nice we really are.
I don’t think it can fail. I’ll take them to the beach, make kitchy-koo noises at Florence and discuss floaty dresses with Samantha.
Soppy? Certainly not. I shall be bonding with the Tories, a new and exciting venture for all of us.
Welcome subcontinent – your call really does matter to us
While naturally deploring the scandal within the international cricket scene, I am interested in the mechanics of spot betting, which seems to be particularly prevalent in Asia.
We could easily have spot betting on the Island. Roll up to the monthly meeting of the IW Council! Place your bets on our regular favourites!
Precisely when will Cllr Lumley deliver that googly to the Tories? Will the chairman declare it a no ball?
The forecast is an evens bet on rubbish collection being discussed and Cllr Heather Humby is 10/1 on to follow it up with a question about dog dirt.
Are you going to stake your shirt on a 500/1 punt that newcomer Cllr Gary Taylor will open his mouth and say something?
We could also have spot betting on Island roadworks. On what date and at what hour will the temporary traffic lights go up again in Wootton? Can you predict how many days beyond the advertised period it will take to complete the repairs?
If the cricket authorities stamp out spot betting within the game, there will be a window of opportunity and we must seize it. Those Indian gamblers will be desperate and we can be here to feed their addiction.
Besides which, there will be a rare satisfaction in India calling us for a change. We will set up a betting call-centre and take wagers from Delhi, using an automated voice where necessary.
As Mr Patel waits frantically to place his bet on the timing of Wightlink’s next misfortune, he will be told his call is important to the Island.
"You are in a queue and there are 594 callers ahead of you. Thank you for your patience."