So not all our thoughts are pure.
Front row seats in the gallery at a nose-bleed-inducing height above the stalls of Brighton’s Theatre Royal, we take our seats.
There are latecomers. I recognise one. She is our local MP, Caroline Lucas, leader of the Green Party and local celebrity.
And for a moment, she occupies the narrow space between myself and a heart-stopping drop . In a flash of madness I picture her untimely demise, clinging momentarily to the rail, legs flailing, the image of knickers of emerald hues filling wide-eyed stares of the scattering, horrified hordes below.
Do not let this worry your noble self, Caroline, should you be reading this. I am not that way inclined – and in apologising for disturbing me from my seat, you are perfectly delightful. So you shall live.
The history of Environmentalist versus Mentalist conflict reads blankly. Few Friends of the Earth have bitten the dust for their views on composting and biofuels.
And crossword setters and solvers alike are pretty benign so you’d think.
Although in Venezuela this week, a setter has been questioned over covert messages suggesting a major political figure was about to be erased.
Though, perhaps disappointingly, I have yet to be arrested for my nefarious cruciverbalism.
‘Bin Laden’ provided a solution in a puzzle of mine the week before 9/11. And Shed is known to have penned a clue for ‘Indira Gandhi’, published a couple of days subsequent to her assassination. Furthermore, it was me who once did give Bob Hope a mention around the time of his demise, albeit at the age of 162.
It all means nothing, of course. Conspiracy theorists please go home, and get informed.
We are harmless fools, sailing pacific waters, in the ship of jollity under warming azure skies.
Until we get nasty, that is.