The Return of Yodo

Conjuring a crooning Bruce Willis is as fitting an opening as this mortal can muster, and I'm sure the subject in question (that one, not that one) has no objection to being placed on a higher than usual podium. And to what do we owe this pleasure? Transport problems, apparently. But whatever the motivation, 'twas overdue, and no amount of nothing-to-says excuse that, not least because it's a — ahem — wob leg, whose nature and practitioners dictate ill-inform and sour, or at best tasteless, nothings. Perhaps, then, this unique (though it isn't) stand is a stand of credibility, forethought, thought-about opinions and the abhorrence of slavishly jotted daily minutiae, rather than the undoubtedly truer reality of I Can't Be Stuffed. Still, the pile's a feather higher. That counts for something.

While we're vaguely on the topic, I should probably say something about the other ladder-dwellers, who invariably rest below the above. Silver downwards are, as far as the World's concerned, dead, nonexistent and defunct, respectively. At this point, the most likely person to publish another boast is Tee Eff Dee, which is an unlikely state to be (in). The reason for this is that my gut has even less faith in the alternatives, who, one feels (particularly this one), were token leggers, carried on a brief wind of hype and potential before being laid to rest back in real life. That said, Time Away is a more desirable pursuit in the end.

So, yes, he's returned, whether for good, for evil or the mean. It doesn't bear stating, and posterity will hate it, but a feather's a feather.