Yesterday saw two significant ceremonies at Grace Towers. My wife, Jean, and I raised a glass to celebrate our 59th wedding anniversary. Then we raised another to mark the switching-on of our central heating after a record-breaking lay-off of 10 weeks, thanks to the July heatwave and the late arrival of autumn.
Putting one over on our shyster energy supplier (a member of the notorious Big Six privatised progeny of Thatcher, the arch shyster) has become one of life's few remaining pleasures. We fondly imagine the money-grubbing sharks' cries of pain as they wincingly scrutinise our paltry quarterly bill. "What's to become of us?" they wail, reaching for their breakfast Bollinger and caviar canapes.
In their specious publicity material the privateers claim they made a loss of £62 million on residential business last year. If you believe that you'll believe anything. But even if true, the figure is swallowed up by total profits of £1,667 million! That is unlikely to be enough, given their insatiable greed. Stand by for their latest disingenuous excuse for raising charges.
At Grace Towers we know the thrill of victory will soon give way to the chill of winter and the enemy's sustained counter attack. We're stocking up early with thermal underwear, hot water bottles, scarves, gloves and blankets, reminiscent of the war years. If Hitler couldn't beat us, there's no way Thatcher's storm troopers will!
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