PP: "Bloody excited, I can tell you. The missus has been on at me to get some work done because I get under her feet at home. Poor love finds it difficult to get her chores done with me constantly demanding my dinner, a drink, the newspaper, oral."

QV: "Oral?"

PP: "No thanks, mate! I know we’re all supposed to be liberal these days, but I’m no woofter and I’m bloody proud of it, too."

QV: "Right. Well... As you know, Peter, you’ll be answering a variety of questions sent in by members of the public, and they can be upon any topic whatsoever. Are you ready to start?"

PP: "Ready, willing and able."

QV: "Now, to kick off, we’ve had an e-mail from Simon of Middlesex that asks, ‘What are your thoughts on the continuing troubles in Iraq, and do you think it will ever become a working democracy?’"

PP: "Bloody good question, that. I think that Tony has had a lot of flack for following that Yankee Doodle Dandy into a war with Iraq, but it had to be done. That loony out there was killing people for the bloody fun of it! He had all these BNPs that were going to be launched at this country. Now it’s all very well to sit at your breakfast table in Basingstoke, being liberal about it, talking about peace or whatever it’s called, but how would you feel if a bloody great missile landed in your Coco Pops? You’d be bloody pissed off, wouldn’t you?"

QV: "You’d probably be dead."

PP: "Exactly! And you’d want to do something about it."

QV: "What could you do about being dead?"

PP: "Go to war, of course! Get into bloody Baghdad and kick Saddam’s arse. It had to be done, and we did it. One nil to Britain, ‘keeper couldn’t do a thing about it."

QV: "What about the problems since the war has ended, though? The attacks on Allied Forces, the kidnapping and execution of Westerners working to try and rebuild the country... Ken Bigley, Margaret Hassan?"

PP: "It’s a bit of a pickle, certainly. I think the best thing we can do is go in there and topple the old regime."

QV: "That’s already been done."

PP: "Then we can do it again! Get our boys in there and kick out the bloody Allies. What country are they from, anyway? Two nil to Britain, no hope for anybody else."

QV: "There certainly isn’t. Well Peter, that rather neatly segues into our next question, which is from Caroline of Lancashire. She wants to know who you think will win the forthcoming US Presidential election, George W Bush or John Kerry?"

PP: "Well, it’s a bit like choosing underwear, isn’t it?"

QV: "Is it?"

PP: "If you want comfort, a nice fitted pair of boxer shorts will do you fine for the working week. However, if you want to be a bit stylish, if you think you might be scoring with a young hottie like Konnie Huq, a sexy pair of briefs are without doubt, the pant of choice."

QV: "How does that equate to George Bush and John Kerry?"

PP: "Who?"

QV: "The candidates that will be fighting out the US Presidential election? One of them is going to win it and the other is currently the President."

PP: "Bloody hell, sorry old son. I was just reminiscing about the time Noaksie did a live show wearing his wife’s knickers, and when he ripped his trousers doing one of his crazy stunts, all the young viewers saw one of his arse cheeks. I think we got a few letters about that one."

QV: "So, what do you think of Bush?"

PP: "I think it’s these bloody lesbian feminists who’ve grown them to teach us poor bloody men a lesson. Tell me the name of one man who doesn’t prefer a shaven haven to a forest in the face."

QV: "George Bush."

PP: "George Bush prefers his ladies hairy, does he? And that man’s the bloody President of the United States, for Christ’s sake! What’s the world coming to?"

QV: "Erm.... right. Our final question for today’s session is about football."

PP: "Bloody marvellous game, soccer. The sport of Kings, and men. I’m a big fan, I can tell you."

QV: "That’s good news then for Steve of London, who wants to know who you think will win this weekend’s clash of the titans in the Barclays Premiership, between Manchester United and Arsenal."

PP: "Christ, I’m looking forward to this one and no mistake. Big game, big occasion, big players, big... everything. Just big. Big, big game."

QV: "So, who do you think will win? Will Wenger’s classy Gunners make it fifty games unbeaten, or will Sir Alex Ferguson finally get his team selection right and see the Red Devils achieve their thousandth Premiership point?"

PP: "Big, big game. Big."

QV: "And the winner?"

PP: "Definitely those lads who play so well, those big strapping lads. Back of the bloody net."

QV: "Peter, do you have any idea of what I’m talking about? Are you actually a fan of football?"

PP: "Of course I am, you bloody little snout. I was at Wembley only last week for the Bully Off Super Prix, or whatever you lefties call it these days. I remember back in ’66, when Nobby helped a lame dog over a stile, and we still wanted Bobby Moore afterwards. I remember on the old show, we had a celebratory episode where, as I recall, Val Singleton took a penalty and poor old Chris Trace got hit in the balls. His language was bloody awful for a live kids show He turned that episode into a real Blue Peter, I can tell you."

QV: "Peter, thank you."

PP: "Pleasure."