Gary, Don't tell Noreen, but the van is a Toyota Hiace in blue. They should have made a cult film about it.

I had the very great pleasure earlier this morning, of meeting Ossenflags, dressed as an angler, ambling shambolically towards his workplace. He greeted me with the quaint Hullism "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" And I was touched. I offered him a lift, and he bought buns from the ship next to The Avenue Takeaway, the now-famous chicken specialist, bog-roll bereft, arse-washing employer of our very own jOhn.

Being engaged in the science of extracting money from the independent fitted furniture trade today, has meant leaving the cows in the capable hands of "Lodger" Frank, who turned up this morning looking very dapper in a trilby and navy blazer with a huge badge sewn on it.

I havn't been able to speak to him all afternoon, and Mrs Drinkall is also missing. I suspect that he might be neglecting his duties, and fear that I have one beast who is convinced it is one of Noreen's porpoises. If I am down to 17 freisians, I will seize his aging Metro. So help me.