First the ill-shod Derb, now the Los Angeles Correspondent of the London Times confesses to a similar weakness: “Every day in Los Angeles, I live in fear of doing a Kurtz — of being claimed by the urban jungle as one of its own. “You’ve got to remember, old boy,” as a friend on The Sunday Times once warned me. “They’re the bloody foreigners, not you.” And yet this week, I feared it had finally happened. I suppose it was a long time coming: the American wife, the Green Card, the mortgage, and now this. The realisation came as I was preparing to leave home, and trying to decide on the most appropriate footwear. Glancing down, I saw my options laid out on the floor: not one, not two, not three, but four pairs of brightly coloured flip-flops.” Sic Transit Gloria Angliae