The Frumplingtons

It’s a problem familiar to ex-Prime Ministers the world over, the most recent example being Britain’s former PM, Tony Blair:

What the hell do you do after you leave a job like that?

You can hardly go back to life as it might have been before. Librarian, newsagent, garage mechanic, deep-sea trawler fisherman, train driver: none of these ‘ordinary’ jobs is an option, however much you might want to disappear from public life.

That leaves just two choices:

• Roving ambassador, trying to solve the world’s big problems (usually the Middle East). Or,
• Write a book about your time in office.

But it’s not just top politicians who are faced with such dilemmas. One ‘celebrity’ a bit closer to home who is wondering ‘what to do next’ is little fluffy pipsqueak, Mint Sauce. Remember him? He used to be up there as the header image on this very blog.

Until we decided it was time for him to retire.

Well, he was holding us back. Attracting the wrong kind of readers. He was far too kitsch and sweet for the tough Frumplingtons image.

Don’t get the wrong idea though: jealousy never came into it. I mean, what? Us, jealous of Mint Sauce? (Excuse me while I take five for a hearty guffaw, if you don’t mind.)

Anyhow, whatever happens, we can’t have Mint Sauce (‘Call me Minty’ indeed!) writing a bleat-and-tell memoir. Why? Simple: he knows too much. No, Minty will be handed over as raw materials to the local knitting collective before he will be permitted to ‘tell all’. So don’t bother saving up for his book, ‘cos it’ll never happen.

Whaddya think we should do with Minty now, eh? Methinks we should raffle him off. Anyone want to buy a book of tickets?