Hello, boys and girls. How are you?

(...)

That's nice. Would you care for a biscuit?

(...)

Of course you can take two. May I recommend the Yoghurt Crunch?

(... <crunch> ...)

(...)

I'm sorry about that, perhaps it's an acquired taste. Anyway, here are the pseudonymns you wanted.

1. Hoppipola Jones
2. Assiduous Clark
3. John W. Foster
4. Hephaestus Culvert
5. Beardy Augusts

I hope this is all right. I should quite like to write some more words soon, but I'm not quite ready yet. Give it another year or two. In the meantime, might I recommend Gavin Ewart to you? He is a better poet than me, and if I'm perfectly frank he is probably a better poet than you.

I've spent the past year paying national insurance and occasionally fleeing the country. I'm also being a football hack: [link] - the line about Valentina Maio isn't mine, boys and girls, so don't jump to conclusions about the sweatiness of my palms. If my palms are sweaty it's because it's August or because I've been performing wholesome manly ordeals like chopping wood and wrestling lemurs.

I'm also lending my name to an upmarket brand of French footwear. [link] They'll be OK when the revolution comes, I expect. I got their back.

Did I already offer you a biscuit?