Of the 190 undisputed states and the 16 whose sovereignty is questionable comprising the world, YP with a passport the size of a bench pressed volume of Encyclopedia Britannica still had a blank page begging an immigration stamp on page number 237.
Now I realise, dear reader, that this just doesn't add up. 206 countries in the world, 16 of them disputed yet he has already reached page 237 in his no doubt cumbersome international personal identity document. But bear in mind that YP is no spring chicken. He was present at the signing, and corrected the grammar of the Magna Carta. Not only states but empires have risen and fallen during his tenure of the mortal coil. So with the incomprehensible algorithmics available to all through Google and Trip Advisor, our YP realised he had missed one soverieign state, Malta.
Already on his death bed after an exhausting trip to Asia where he was massaged close to death, his only sustenance now his life depended on the NHS rather than almond eyed school girls being chunks of real Real Yorkshire Pudding dripping with gravy hand fed to him by genuinely chuncky northern lassies letting him lick their fingers and drip feeding him Tetley's beer, he raised a clenched fist in that iconinc anti-Thatcher salute and said, 'Book me a flight to Malta'.
'Malta?' said the nurse, a wee young trainee from the Philipines.
'Mebbe he want drink make kid go sleep at night, Maltina', shrugged the Polish duty consultant signing off an extra cocktail of intravenous drugs.
Well, when you wake up, YP, this is what you have to look forward to flying Ryan Air courtesy of Tristan St James who has more Air Miles than all the NASA astronaughts combined.
Sorry there was no time for you to get the book about Operation Pedestal, but if you have the time in Malta, score a few photos of Valletta Harbour for me especially where the Ohio eventually settled on the putty.