Just a postscript. This morning I awoke to find a local jobbing builder asleep on my settee downstairs. He had been lavishly entertained by Mrs O whilst I retired to discuss Hillman Minx carburettors on Mudchat in post-gig kind of way. I also discovered through the gift of barefoot sensory perception - a very cold and soggy area of carpet near the kitchen door equating to a good bladder full of my processed scotch. Hence I want to denounce Mr Victor Leaning of Neverdun, High Street South Ferriby as being a mucky git. In three days, my morning room will smell like the stairwell in the NCP car park behind Argos in Hull, and I will disembowel him.