Who in their right mind would want to be a politician?
Black Friday and, with all the sincerity I can muster, I wish you guys the best of luck with it.
The list of subjects to be avoided in polite company just got longer.
Speaking as one northerner to another, could I please have some help here? Where exactly is the north?
Remember, remember. It’s that time again – just in case you’d forgotten.
It used to be said that the two most commonly broken promises were: “The cheque’s in the post”; and another one.
Whether you’re a prince, Prime Minister, or a postie in shorts (looking anxiously towards a potential pre-Christmas strike), my bet is there will have been times when you’ve said: “I hate this bloomin’ job!”
Visitors in chez Pickles at the weekend. Always a pleasure – especially when they’re of the much-loved, too seldom seen variety.
Brush off the bunting and dig out the frying pan, it’s celebration time.
Dear me, what a week that was! Peaky Blinders finished unsatisfactorily, that dreadful Strictly thing danced in to herald the start of autumn, a lady with a sparkly spider brooch judged the Prime Minister to be creepily and unlawfully dodgy and our local mental health services took another hit of stinging criticism from inspectors.
