Occam's Razor states that when you hear hoofbeats, you probably shouldn't think of zebras...

We humans are strange creatures. We still shake hands with complete strangers, even though we don't carry swords anymore — well, most of us anyway. We ask, "How are you" — when we are definitely not expecting an answer...

Today we begin not in the banking boardrooms on wall street, the city, or even in the square mile; but rather, in the back of your closet... or wardrobe.

Is it just me, or are we more prone to looking for shortcuts, nowadays?

Today, let me gently cajole you out of your literary lethargy. Your ectomological ennui. Apoplexy, anesthetized, stupefied, and - okay. Enough of that.

What does a fierce, french firebrand have in common with a Roman general's daughter and a virtuous Roman noblewoman? On the surface, very little.

Today we move from drunkards in a London tavern deep into the magical Athenian woods, on to the summer retreat of Windsor, and rounding ourselves out with a trip down the catwalk to a hip-hop soundtrack, and arriving back in North London.

I'll tell you right now: you are not going to wring today's word out of me. Not by pain, not by persuasion, not even by the promise of caffeine and crumpets.

Today, we have a task before us. Massive; gigantic; or some would say, colossal; mightily gargantuan; of elevated importance; tremendous - and at the same time, great.

Today we head back to Northern Spain, for Uncle William's 1594 tale of lofty vows of chastity, love-struck lords, and — a filthy little mystery for you.