Beverley, I need immediate access to the whelk pens and there is simply too much folk music in Beverley's pubs. One can hardly get a game of darts in the East Riding for all the banging, twanging, squeezing scraping and bawling; let alone the issue of house prices. I think I'll stay put.

When Mr Benson fires up his old autolave, we can scrape a large quantity of a nutritious meaty snack-food from our roofs and windows if the wind is in the right direction. We call it "stringy grey butter".