I was going to tell you how bored I am with the siren voices of climate change and global warming. How for every 10 boffins who claim these forces exist, I'll find you 50 who say they don't. How I'm totally clueless as to the whereabouts of my carbon footprint - as if I ever cared - and how the next numpty who speaks of recycling as though it were the new sex will be decked on the spot.
I was also going to tell you how I can't wait to bid farewell to the dysfunctional and intellectually moribund Government that has peddled this environmental psychobabble - it's obsession with business regulation, tax and legislation and its petty meddling in the affairs of commerce and beyond. Its fondness for ill-conceived targets (think peat reduction) driven by political correctness and left-of-centre ideology (think Harriet Harman), its abject failure to listen (think R&D, not to say Iraq) and its propensity for developing policy on the hoof (think Technology Strategy Boards, not to say Afghanistan).
I was going to tell you about how things used to be. How I recall with giddy nostalgia the days when you could stand, shout and swear at football matches and nobody gave a stuff, but now you'll be taken to the Tower and told to sit down (think cold plastic seats and dodgy pies). How I yearn for the golden age of steam trains, loose-leaf tea and fresh vanilla slices - and television gardeners, only proper ones who smoke pipes and double dig.
Anyway, I don't suppose I should bang on about this stuff any more or I'll get shot. Stuff like me buying the cheapest compost because I'm tight and, besides, the world won't run out of peat any more than it will vanilla slices. Like me walking on the grass when it says don't because that's what grass is for, walking on, and using weed-killers when I deem it necessary because, they're actually quite useful.