One of our old friends, Kevin, is coming to visit us today.
Kevin lives on the south coast, and works as a catering assistant in a pub, where he peels potatoes for a living.
Kevin has never been to London before, and so in his latest e-mail to Tony, he said that he's really excited about the prospect of visiting our fine city, and is looking forward to seeing some of London's landmarks.
Naturally, when Tony read the e-mail, he chuckled, and said that Kevin obviously thinks that we're going to take him on a guded tour of London, so he can see Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge and all of the other tourist attractions.
Of course, and as my overweight friend rightly says, we weren't put on this planet to help people discover the delights of our home town, and if Kevin wants to spend his time in London taking photos of Big Ben and Picadilly Circus, then that's his problem.
But being an alcoholic, we reckon that Kevin will be more interested in seeing the interior of our favourite pub, tasting the delicious lager served by Sid, the pub landlord, and making conversation with some of the sexy female tourists who occasionally come into the pub, in need of a drink, and shelter from the mean streets of London.
I reckon that this week is going to be a disaster, because the last time we saw Kevin, it was on a camping holiday, when he decided to get very drunk, insult a family of German holiday-makers, and tried his luck with a couple of Swedish beauties from Stockholm.
Still, that was a few years ago, and as Tony says, age can only mellow a man.
Personally, I don't think that the potato peeler from hell has mellowed that much, but because Kevin enjoys a drink, and Tony and me don't have anything else to do with our time, we can only welcome him into our home, and drink ourselves senseless!