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London Aye . . .

Boris Bonkers, the London mayor, is a strange chap.

Women fall for him and, unfortunately, when they get up they are invariably pregnant. He is a ghostly presence at the Games. The vast, sweaty mass in the Tube stations have to listen to him intone the info that one has to leave early to arrive on time. It's as if Big Brother is watching you. "It's like 1984," said one fellow passenger. "Strangely," I replied, "that was the time I left Pall Mall to head to the Olympic Park."

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