It's Valentine's Day and, ever the romantic, I've just been for a nine-mile run and am currently sitting here dripping in sweat and smelling like an old sack. Sometimes I think Vanessa truly is the luckiest woman in the world.
Before I go for a scrub, some food and another scrub, a quick jogging-related tale from an individual I don't normally have a lot of time for - Tony Blair's former spin-weasel Alastair Campbell. He told it at a conference I worked with him at a few years ago and, to be fair, it made me laugh.
As you'll know, Mr Campbell - who specialises in making situations and people seem something very different from the reality - has a bit of an image problem himself.
Amongst the negative impacts of his unpopularity is that he occasionally finds himself on the receiving end of abuse from (perceptive) members of the great British public. And to illustrate, he relayed a story about one dark night when he was out for a jog on Hampstead Heath and stumbled across a man who was lying injured on the ground, having just been mugged.
Campbell, to his credit, stopped and asked the man if he was alright.
The individual, who was understandably in shock and more than a little dazed, said he was OK.
So Campbell, who lived nearby, offered to take him back to his house to get cleaned up, have some refreshment and call the police.
But suddenly, the man's expression changed.
"Hold on," he said, in a serious tone. "Aren't you that Alastair Campbell?"
"Yes, I am, yes. Look, are you going to come with me?" replied the spin-weasel.
The man sat up, looked Campbell straight in the eye and uttered the killer line:
"But I ****ing hate you!"
I loved that.
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