They eat storks in Norfolk

Congrats to JonnyB on the birth of his first child, Servalan. For those of you who didn’t waste the seventies watching low-tech British sci-fi, she’s named after the sexy yet evil nemesis of Blake’s Seven. Perhaps Jonny thinks of it as a fighter’s name. I fear that that will prove to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Sadly for wealthy, powerful and talented parents like Jonny, the mockery of their peers at kindergarten is not the worst threat that faces their precious bunnies, as evidenced by recent rumours of a plot to kidnap young Leo Blair. The BBC has found space for a breathless examination of the security arrangements the Beckhams and Abramovitches of this world can purchase. Admittedly Jonny is not connected with football in any way that I know of, but apparently that does not automatically disqualify him as a potential client.

That said, fees of 750 quid a day might be beyond the resources even of Mr B. Fortunately, rural Norfolk has its own burgeoning personal protection industry to fall back on. You can get a cardboard cut-out of trigger-happy local farmer Tony Martin for 25. Or, for slightly less, you can get Tony Martin.


Tony Martin, yesterday. Also available for Weddings, Bar-Mitzvahs, and children’s parties.