The Diary of Sir Austen Cambridge KC MC WC

I have been watching the Rockford Files. Following a disagreement with Lady Antonia I spent the winter of 78-9 in a trailer on the beach. This was in Bridport not Malibu and I did not receive any enquires from disinherited daughters looking for dirt on their fathers Mistress.

November 1 I rode over to visit Cedric and Bathsheba. The bedsit above the kebab shop is cramped but cosy in the no income boho style. Bathsheba divulged that they are both care leavers and have no one but each other. I bought the skunk and pizza and we had a pleasant evening.

My grand nephew Lachlan has been arrested at a Young Bob protest outside the Drag Queen Story Hour event at the Baptist Mission Hall in Yeovil. Luckily I was able to bung the Chief Constable a couple of tickets for Showaddywaddy in Weymouth and he got a conditional discharge.

My father left the estate to the Monday Club. Through a series of reassignations it is now the joint property of Ben Delo, Paul Marshall and Jeremy Hosking. It is registered in Equatorial Guinea as a beach hut in Skegness.

My solicitors Toyah and Wilcox have found a previously undisclosed codicil to my fathers will. The shattering news is that I am neither the legal owner of the house nor of the land on which it sits.

In 46 the house was used as a bolt hole for chaps on their way to Argentina. That summer the house rang with the laughter of Ustase, Papal Nuncios and Sardonic fellows from the Romanian Iron Guard.

In 44 the house was used as a billet for US General Ashley Madison. This infuriated my father who would call him Shirley Temple which he found amusing.

The estate has not been a working farm for some decades. My father Sir Jasper alienated the workers with his capricious incompetence. I hastened the decline with my complete disinterest in any of the practical matters involved.

Billy Bragg dropped by to inspect the old ballroom for possible use as a rehearsal space. Unlike PJ Harvey he was evidently revulsed by the filth and squalor. One can forget that the houseproud Cockney does not share the bohemian instincts of the West Country creative type.

I have bought a Doberman. His breeding name is Jon Uli Roth but he answers to Pickles. He is a fiercely territorial beast and will assist with the removal of the doggers from the lower paddock.

I have received the most shocking news from my solicitors Toyah, Wilcox and Fripp. I will update when I understand the situation better.

My nearest bookshop is Ye Oldspeech in Compton Abbas. The difficulty is whenever I pop in for a Wodehouse the lady proprietor insists on selling me something from her special stock. This week it was "The problem with Women and Darkies" by Roger Scrotum.

October 30 Boscombe. Due to staffing issues I have been helping with the nude cleaning business. Today a very large expensive house in Sandbanks. These footballers wives can be very caustic in their remarks.

October 29 Boscombe. I have had a most pleasant time in Drita`s Bedsit. Over breakfast she let slip that her cleaning business is of a somewhat unusual nature. Marigolds are the only apparel provided to the staff.

October 28th On the flight back from Tirana I sat next to a charming lady called Drita. She has her own cleaning business and a bedsit in Boscombe to which I have been invited

Oct 27 Tirana. The Raki here is rather potent and I ill advisedly threw a petrol bomb handed to me by a masked youth. Currently hiding in a bunker and suffering stomach cramps.

Oct 27 Tirana Went down to Skanderbeg Square and bumped into my old school chum Thorley Walters. There has been some trouble here and he is keeping an eye on things for HMG. Locals seem tense so I have been doing my Norman Wisdom impressions to cheer them up.

October 27 Tirana Arrived at Midnight but managed to score a top bunk at King Zogs youth hostel. For some reason there is a chap from The Times in the bed below. One would have thought they would have been put up in a hotel.

I recall the occasion when I found Ken Russell shooting a UKIP party political in the upper paddock. I shooed him off my land whilst Joan Collins dressed as Boudicca looked on aghast.

You may recall Cedric and Bathsheba the new age couple who put up their bender in the old orchard. The council have found them a bedsit above the kebab shop in Wincanton. I shall miss them.