Talk like Dick van Dyke for a day

One of the most entertaining, charming and wickedly funny coves you could ever hope to encounter would be Lord Boy Moritz, of Portland, Oregon, who to the delight of all who are languishing in John Howard's Australia, aren't we all, sugar, now resides in stately Mel Bourne Gridleigh.

Boy, is one of my favourite and most addictive email correspondents. While I should be toiling at work, many hours have been consumed feverishly emailing boy, irritating my colleagues with my snickers and guffaws, as we type about wicked women of film noir, exchanging news and quips from/about our coterie of scintillating and brilliant friends, hearing about his capers -swinging over baths, getting jiggy at the bar, good times, malaise and curious entanglements. Wit and verve are Boy's middle names. He is a 30's manque, sans Mosley and the brown shirts, poverty, an' that.

Well, imagine my surprise, last week, when the tenor of our exchange changed. No longer were his replies lengthy and excellent sources of wit and more importantly information, but they had become abrupt, hard, kind of Robert Mitchum, in others a rather alluring quality, but I wanted Boy to be Boy. I challenged Boy who advised that he was "trying a new style, dollface" (ye don't say, cupcake) and his next reply came

It befit me, don't it.

Well, with one fell swoop he'd completely lost his Robert Mitchum toughness, and transformed himself to Dick Van Dyke circa Fitzwilly and Mary Poppins.

So fortunately the old joy boy returned. And in honour of his return, I want you all to speak like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins for one day this week.