It’s May Day once more, a day when the entire population of dear old Blighty dress up and take to the streets to dance like mad Morris Men. Well, apart from the residents of Rochester of course who for some reason prefer to dress up like Dick Van Dyke (or if this photo is anything to go by, Al Johnson) for the annual sweeps festival. “Chim Chim Cher-ee” indeedy.
The last debate. The last waltz. The last tango in Paris. The last of the Summer Wine. So what’s tonight going to be all about then?
Being a good working class lad (I have a job) I found myself in Poundland this morning to pick up some supplies for work. Supplies being a bag of Swizzels “Loadsa Lollies” with 40% extra free obviously.
For my sins, I am a season ticket holder at Wrexham. Lord knows why, with Premier League action a couple of miles down the road and a sixty odd mile to get there. Always a joy on a snowy midweek winter’s night, especially if it’s a home defeat against some hapless hoofball part-timers such as [...]
Well, its official. We are properly out of the recession. No chance of a double dip dab. Gone, fixed finito. Fact.