This toast has been a little while coming; tonight, my humble readers, we raise a glass to my dear brother.

For the last few years, I’ve made no secret of the the respect I have for Max. He’s hilariously funny, splendidly intelligent, amusingly mischievous, but above all, a terrifically nice chap with a pronounced sense of right and wrong. He’s also a little mysterious. You don’t second guess him.

He has a bright future ahead of him, and I’m positive he’ll continue to make me proud to be his brother. At the moment, he deserves all the success he’s met with.

We’ve not always got on perfectly, but perhaps that’s what makes me so happy when I reflect on how easily we get on today. He’s an immensely awesome guy.

Interestingly, I’m fairly sure he doesn’t read this blog. It’s highly likely that he may never find out that the honour of a toast has been conferred upon him. He deserves it nonetheless.  One and all, raise your glasses to Max Fayers.

I think this is the third toast I’ve made on my blog so far, such is the rarity with which a toast is raised in praise of someone’s general goodness. This time, please join me in raising a virtual wine glass, or indeed a real one if there’s one to hand, for Emma Miles.

I met Emma on the Primary PGCE a few months back, and have come to know her as someone with a tremendous sense of humour, a selfless sense of morality, and who can demonstrate a level of empathy that I only wish was commonplace. Her principles are based on treating other people fairly, and there is no higher guiding philosophy in life than this.

As with all of life’s good people, we should wish her the best of luck for whatever she does and hope that she remains more or less exactly the same as the lovely individual that she is. It would be reassuringly and surprisingly nice if meritocracy was proven to be in reasonable health, through Emma’s being met with the considerable success that she deserves.

Humble readers, good morning and welcome. I invite you into the imaginary retiring room this evening to raise a glass to the ever-wise and ever-humourous Chris Boocock -  a man – nay, a legend – who is also on the PGCE course I’m studying for this year.

Having bonded once upon a time whilst watching punters collide on the Cam one busy Saturday afternoon, I became instantly aware of the epic nature of the chap I was talking to. Chris possesses the ability to be so witty that he can literally explode somebody’s face with wit. Faces have been exploded due to his wit. He’s also a rather nice bloke. There’s a world o’ scumbags out there folks, but ol’ Chrissy Boocock ain’t one of ‘em.

So, ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise ambiguously-gendered readers, raise a glass to Chris Boocock.

Tonight, humble readers, I propose a toast to a man in my acquaintance named James Bartlett.

I met this chap a few months ago, on a presumably cold night in January. Shortly after starting my stint in a temporary office job in Ipswich, the management invited people for an after-work drink at a local bar, whereupon I had a brief chat with someone who was later to become an important friend to me. I was immediately struck by his laid-back nature and sense of humour, which still define him three quarters of a year after the initial chat.

There are several good reasons for raising a glass to “the Bartman” right now. Firstly, he is the funniest person I know, and has a tremendous sense of humour. Secondly, he is a decent and honest person, who sticks by his principles and is not afraid to be himself. Thirdly, he is an extraordinarily caring and sensitive bloke, defying stereotypical expectations of a man’s emotional maturity.

Despite supporting Manchester United without a reasonable excuse, he is both a credit to the male gender, and to humanity in general. If more people were like this guy, maybe the world would be a little more tolerable.

So here’s to James Bartlett – may he remain the great person, and true gentleman, that I know him to be.