Rachel Johnson has narrated this article for you to listen to.

I am ‘sharing’ what follows as a public service. Also, as self-care in the hope that publicly shaming myself might stop me from doing it again. What can she be on about, you must be thinking, this time?

My name is Rachel Johnson, and I have a chronic inability to leave the house on time, even for something I have been looking forward to for months. One example: heli-skiing in Italy with my son Oliver. All I had to do was catch a flight to Geneva whence we would be conveyed to a divine off-grid chalet via car and driver, then snowmobile.

I had one job. To get us to Heathrow for the breakfast-time flight.

Somehow, though, Ivo caught us both in flagrante in the kitchen eating Shreddies and slurping mugs of tea shortly before the gate would be closing (at this point I should confess that Ivo has elected not to travel with me as ‘every time we fly together it takes years off my life’).

Let’s leave this hanging and move on to the more recent and condign offence at the invitation-only memorial for Dame Jilly Cooper DBE last week.

Before we proceed, m’lud, I should ask for a further offence to be taken into consideration: a propensity........

© The Spectator