Gordon Brown, Tony Blair and David Cameron. Trinny, Susannah and Mary Portas.
Jamie Oliver, Gordon Ramsay and Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall.
George Michael, Freddie Mercury and Marc Almond,
Justin Fletcher, Mr Bloom and Grandpa In My Pocket.
This is what it had come to. Tough, tough choices I can tell you. You see @Ladyblahblahs and I were forced to play Shag, Marry, Avoid because our fatigued brains were too addled to think of a film beginning with the letter M. (Macbeth, Madagascar, Made in Dagenham, My Big Fat Greek Wedding and so on - yes, I know that now, but the circumstances of Saturday night were exceptional.)
The reason for this sorry state of affairs was that we had been walking all night through Edinburgh, taking part in this year's Moonwalk. Our conversation had ranged far and wide - men, children, governments, schools, families, gender politics, blogging and the etiquette of weeing en plein air.
The sun came up, sequins and pompoms may have come unglued and the last of the previous night's alehouse stragglers lurched home. And still we plodded.
In the last few miles we realised that distraction was the answer and so we turned to S, M, A.
I'd be interested to know what you would do with some of our triplets.
Oh, yes, and you can still make a donation to the Moonwalk, Walk the Walk fund - it isn't too late.
P.S. to the lady in McDonald's who kindly let us all use her loo and buy caffienated drinks - get a new job. You are lovely, but nothing is worth spending all of a Saturday night cleaning the kitchen at McDonald's even if the national manager is coming to visit.
