Hello, this is your President calling...

Greetings, citizens. At this time of year we like to have a little get-together called the AGM. This is the annual opportunity for the plebs (that's you) to vote to have our more pathetic generals hurled from the Tarpeian Rock, and to elect their glorious successors to carry the standard into victorious battle. You will also have the opportunity to elect sundry eunuchs and scribes to positions of bureaucratic influence within the court, err, club.

Needless to say some of the more senior elections will be, how should I put it, "technical" procedures (and given the quality of the candidates I'm seriously considering appointing my horse as Club Captain), but you should still take advantage of the chance to have more mortal underlings thrown to the lions - it's such fun.

In the spirit of Bread and Circuses I have decreed that this year's event should start later than usual, at the fifth hour of the afternoon, so that we can all make a dash for the nearest taverna - to celebrate the deposal of the old captains and mourn the appointment of the new ones. We may even sample some exotic cuisine from the valley of the Indus. I hope this festive opportunity will result both in a very high turnout and in unusually rapid progress through the agenda.

As primus inter pares I am looking forward to giving every one of you the chance to buy me a drink. Now bring on the sword-swallowing midgets, before I simply die of boredom...