Catherine Howard - an apology

I was hanging with my homies the other day and the subject turned inevitably to the subject of why Kathryn Parr was executed. So that's the first apology: me and my crew can't tell the difference between Henry VIII's fifth and sixth wives. Anyway, confusing the Kates aside, there was a debate

Catherine someone or other

as to the exact nature of the crime of which she was convicted. Some said treason, others said something else, don't know what, but not treason. The debate raged to no conclusion in particular. However it transpires that she wasn't actually convicted of anything as she wasn't afforded the courtesy of a trial; instead simply being condemned via an Act of Attainder. They did things differently in those days. Or perhaps not.

Another world problem that we solved was to conclude that no-one be worried by the threat of North Korea. The reason? It's the shoes that their soldiers wear.

Novara, the refight

Or, the blog makes a return to its real purpose, There was no discussion of politics last night, except perhaps one or two murmurings that I had been too kind to the evil old bat.

Baroness Thatcher after drinking the blood of small children

Anyway, what of the game. Firstly, and disappointingly, from the French side of the table the quirky, wacky, zany diagonal nature of the layout wasn't anything like as obvious. In fact one might as well have been playing across the table. Very dreary. I have no doubt that the Olicanalad blog will contain a write up with pictures etc so just a brief run through from my point of view. I've said it before, but in my view the sign of a good set of rules is that one can set up exactly the same game twice and have it play out completely differently. The whole Piquet family of rules meet that requirement for me. About the only thing that was the same last night was the group of Swiss skirmishers on the extreme right wheeling onto the flank of the Landsknecht pike block. Oh, and the fact that the French lost. It was a closer run than the previous week, partly because Peter Jackson once again threw some of the worst dice possible. Had we been playing standard Piquet there is the real possibility that he wouldn't have turned any cards at all. On the other hand I as the French opened with a sequence of cards and dice rolls that enabled my light cavalry to flank and then see off a unit of Gendarmes and a small pike block. This, it seems to me anyway, is unlikely to have happened in real life but was possible and, under the 'Hell Broke Loose' rules is unlikely to happen but is possible. Job done. So, big kudos to James and Peter for the rules, which I very much enjoy playing and probably still would even if I understood them.

Peter and James - respect is due

I have been studying the non-transitive dice and sadly can find no wargaming use for them. The problem is the very skewed number distribution on each colour; such as one of them having 5 fives and a blank for example. I have now passed them on to James to ponder over and am quietly confident that he will find some suitable, non-cheesy, role for them on the table-top.

A Feast Of Fiddles

My long day of celebratory perambulation, of extramural terpsichorean carousal, ended in the City Varieties; an arena to which ingress is impossible without succumbing to sesquipedalian loquaciousness.

A despicable human being and Jimmy Savile

Anyway, enough politics, and back to the City Varieties. The entertainment was Feast Of Fiddles who were both bizarre and wonderful. Basically consisting of a front line of six traditional folk violinists (including amongst others, if I have my facts straight, those from Steeleye Span, Fairport Convention and the Battlefield Band) and a melodeon player, they somewhat unexpectedly opened with a version of 'Pick Up The Pieces' the old Average White Band number. Their musical tour d'horizon then took in Mexico's bandit country, Parisian jazz and the world of supermarionation. The rock style rhythm section featured the mighty Dave Mattacks on drums and they also featured a sax player who had backed Graham Parker amongst others. The latter looked exactly as I have always imagined Magersfontein Lugg to look: essentially one should try to picture the love child of Jaws from the James Bond films and Lurch from the original Adams family TV series. Suffice it to say that the concert was excellent and, being suffused with a spirit of goodwill to all men, I even bought a CD.

The excellent Peter Knight

My non transitive dice have arrived. Now I just need to find a use for them.

Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead

No need to say any more really.

I haven't laughed so much since my Auntie Mable caught her left tit in the mangle. Anyway, can't stop because I'm off to the pub to celebrate.

Robin is in da 'hood

This weekend's re-enactors are Regia Anglorum. They seem to cover a longish period ranging from the late Dark Ages to the early Medieval although one suspects their hearts are really with the Saxons. At the Royal Armouries this weekend they are doing 1213 in an event entitled 'John and the Pope'; neither of whom features at all. They were advertised by the museum as an 'interpretation' and as well as the fighting, of which more later, they did an awful lot of sitting around sewing. They brought a small fishing boat with them, but sadly didn't take to the Leeds-Liverpool Canal with it.

None of these people were in attendance; nice beards though

On Saturday afternoon they put their needles and thread down and adjourned to the tiltyard. First up was an exhibition of skill-at-arms featuring four mounted men at a variety of javelin and couched lance tasks (most of which made me think that I'd quite fancy my chances as a foot soldier against them) and one task featuring what were obviously very sharp swords (which I would prefer not to have to deal with). There was then a 'battle' the back story of which seemed to have something to do with liberty, freedom, and the Magna Carta. It seems that King John had imposed all sorts of taxes including one on widows who did not remarry. One can only hope that neither George Osborne nor Ian Duncan Smith were in the audience otherwise they'll be bringing that one in quicker than one can shout "They take from the poor to give to the rich". Which is a nice link into the main protagonists of this event who were, naturally enough, the Sheriff of Nottingham (boo hiss) and Robin 'of the Wood' Hood (huzzah).

A chap with a beard

I won't insult your intelligence by telling you who won. There was lots of shouting (neither this lot nor the cowboys from a few weeks ago are any loss to the world of amateur dramatics) and plenty of bashing and clashing. The one interesting point from a wargamer's point of view is just how quickly they tired. Still, in summary it was good fun, it was free and it was warm sitting in the sun for the first time this year.

Rutherford and Son

And so to the theatre. This time it's the latest Northern Broadside production 'Rutherford and Son'. Superficially the play returns this blog to the theme of social class, but the substance of the drama is the relationships of a pater familias (the eponymous Rutherford) and his three children (it gets confusing at this point; possibly the father is in fact the Son and Rutherford is his father). Anyway, whatever, moving on.

Bazza with a beard

One of the interesting things about reviving plays is how much of the audience's reaction will have changed simply because of changes that have occurred in society over the intervening period. This was first performed in 1912 when the idea of a female playwright was so unheard of that Sowerby was billed only by her initials; an idea which we could laugh at were it not for the fact that pretty much the same thing happened to J.K. Rowling rather more recently. For myself, I was naturally appalled by the father's treatment of his daughter even though I have only the most general idea of the social conventions that allowed him to do it and prevented her from escaping. On the other hand I rather sympathised with him regarding the elder son. John seemed to want all of the benefits of his father's wealth without actually doing anything for it; his sense of entitlement on the basis that he had been to Harrow certainly struck a contemporary chord. I've no idea whether the author intended to promote the concept of meritocracy, but she certainly did; although the talented working man character was a bit of a wet fish. It may be just me, but when watching any play from that period I find it difficult not to think of what we now know awaits the characters in their very near future.

It was, as one would expect from Northern Broadsides, an excellent production. Rutter was on fire - as can be seen in the photo above - and successfully managed to restrain the over-acting for once. I was, however, a bit disappointed at the lack of clog-dancing; presumably Jonathan Miller is not a fan.

Warning - no wargaming content whatsoever

Let's talk about social class. I am proud, though slightly surprised, that the BBC's online class calculator has identified me as 'traditional working class'. I have always agreed with John Prescott's definition i.e. that one retains the class of one's parents. And as someone who grew up in Bethnal Green in a house with an outside toilet and no bathroom I am not sure what else I could be.

A chap with a beard

The interactive version of Charles Booth's poverty maps of London (in the Museum of London - well worth visiting) identify the house in which I grew up as Dark Blue or "Casual earnings, very poor. The labourers do not get as much as three days work a week, but it is doubtful if many could or would work full time for long together if they had the opportunity. Class B is not one in which men are born and live and die so much as a deposit of those who from mental, moral and physical reasons are incapable of better work." Now we had clearly come up somewhat in the world by the time I arrived (at least my mother's family; my father's family never did) and might even have been as high as Pink at that point. But one is what one is. The university degrees, accountancy qualification, opera going, waterside apartment living are mere veneer.

You can put lipstick on a Pink, but it's still a Pink

Anything can happen Thursday

Well! So soon after last night's lop-sided lunacy we have another first: two blog postings on the same day. "Blimey O'Reilly" as Oscar Wilde would have said under the same circumstances. 

I have been to the Henry Moore Institute in Leeds to see the new Robert Filliou exhibition. It's centrepiece (not literally as it is actually off in a side room) is 'Eins.Un.One...', a work dating from 1984.

This consists - and I quote - 'of 16,000 wooden dice bearing the number one on all sides, negating the laws of probability'.

Now, any wargamer will tell you that rolling 16,000 consecutive ones is in fact not just plausible, but has actually happened to them during a game in which their brilliant strategy was otherwise going to guarantee victory.

So I, on behalf of you all, want to say to Filliou (again not literally as he has been dead for 25 years): "We recognise and share your pain."

Mama Weer All Crazee Now

Wargamers are generally regarded as fat, unwashed blokes with beards and no interpersonal skills. And that's just by other wargamers. God only knows what the general public would think of us if they became aware of our existence. But, I am proud to be able to report that one man is single-handedly leading the way in showing that wargamers aren't at all dull and boring.

James Roach

Last evening in James 'Olicanalad' Roach's legendary wargames room we played a game diagonally across the table. That's right, you heard me; corner to corner - and we didn't care! Rock and roll or what?

The game itself (Novara 1513 - full details available as usual on James's Olicanalad's blog - was very enjoyable; not least because I won. I did it the hard way with my large pike block taking for ever to get into the action, As so often happens one of my units - in this case some innocuous looking skirmish shot - swept all before them and then fought a unit of French Gendarmes to a standstill. I don't think there is any doubt however that my triumph was mainly due to Peter Jackson throwing some of the worst dice it has ever been my privilege and pleasure to watch from the other side of the table. My own dice throwing was nothing to write home about, but if your opponent rolls a one then a two will do.

So, is wargaming 'on the bias' the way forwards? Just possibly. If we can move on from cubic dice to embrace the other Platonic solids  then why not? I have the highest hopes for a table based on the principle of the moebius strip; it would definitely increase the likelihood of flank marches succeeding.

"The cat's done a whoopsie in my beret"

And so to the theatre. I've had a bit of a middle-brow Easter, culturally speaking. 'Waterloo' is a fine film - especially for someone with an interest in military history - but I'm don't think even Sergei Bondarchuk would regard it as Art with a capital A. I also watched 'Up Pompeii' which definitely counts as a guilty pleasure. I am not ashamed to admit that I have always found Frankie Howard very funny (Oh, suit yourselves) and, of course, I honour him as one dissolute old git to another. As a reviewer on IMdB points out, the film is the sort of rubbish that only the British could produce and yet it features Sir Michael Horden, a man who had played Lear and who had been knighted for his services to the theatre.

Someone else on IMdB has been to the trouble of posting a comment pointing out the holes in the plot. I've no idea whether irony was intended.

Anyway, last  night was 'The Ladykillers', based on the old Ealing comedy which featured Sir Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers et al and was just the sort of classic that only the British could make. The stage version is scripted by Graham Linehan of 'Father Ted' fame, which promised laughs; and they were duly delivered. I very much enjoyed it. The character of Major Courtney, with his predilection for dressing in women's clothes rather reminded me of a Royal Navy submarine captain whom I once knew. He's switched roles to be a captain of industry these days so I won't name names. Perhaps it's something they teach you in officer training.

The role of Mrs Wilberforce was played by Michele Dotrice who may look different, but sounds exactly the same as when she regularly exclaimed "Oh, Frank.". She was, of course, married to the late Edward Woodward, thus neatly bringing us on to the subject of wargaming. Hopefully I can thereby escape censure from Comrade Conrad.

Hang a trout!

I wouldn't normally write a blog entry about the blog itself; a bit self-referentially postmodern for my tastes (those imaginary readers who have stuck with me so far may remember that I am more inclined to post-postmodernism myself). Anyway, I may have to stop referring to imaginary readers because we have - unnoticed, but not unwelcome - attracted a follower. The next thing you know someone apart from me will be reading this.

It all rather puts me in mind of the advice given by the great Steve Martin: "Don't have sex." he warned "It will lead to kissing and pretty soon you'll have to talk to them."

Anyway, can I say just two things to Conrad Kinch "Hello." and "I am not worthy."

Boardgaming

To the White Swan for to take part in International Tabletop Gaming Day +1 as it isn't known. A healthy turnout for a couple of games of Resistance plus one of Ice Flow. I left them playing Citadels to return home to celebrate my birthday in the most suitable fashion: alone.

He cares even if no-one else does

I did get to watch Waterloo on the tele though. What a top film. Admittedly I can't help expecting the Duke of Wellington to whip out a guitar and sing a song about alpine flowers, but that's probably just me.

"Yes, I realise it's singing, but who?"

International Tabletop Gaming Day

In honour of this event it seems to me that most appropriate actions that I could take are to neither game nor write about it. So be it.

Today's re-enactors are some sort of medieval entertainers. There is a stilt-walker (which always impresses me) as well as a jester in a costume that makes him look like he is buggering a monk. I've no idea whether that is deliberate or not.

Last night I went to an evening with James Fearnley, best known perhaps as being the accordionist with The Pogues. I went because I was keen to learn about what was life was like with the band's charismatic and famously out-of-it front man and also how they came to record 'Fairytale of New York'. I wasn't disappointed on either count. I was however somewhat surprised to find that other members of the audience appeared to have gone along so that they could tell the speaker what life was like on the road - sex, drugs, rock'n'roll etc - apparently oblivious to the fact that he'd done it and they hadn't. Add to that one chap who seemed to have led a similar lifestyle to Shane MacGowan and with the same consequences, but who put it down at great length to the fact that he was a chef, and I got a bit irritated.

 

Beard, but no teeth

Dubienkin

So farewell then, Richard Griffiths. It's impossible to believe that you were only 65, given that you had looked exactly the same for at least forty years.

As usual the media have ignored your best role: that of the phoenix-like Soviet Premier Dubienkin.

This, together with US stealth bombers being deployed in Korea, rather reminds me of my run-in with the Pentagon over the weapon system that might have shortened a major regional war. However, obviously I can't actually tell you about it. So - moving on...

Today, we should all wear our mushroom with pride.

Sophocles' Antigone

I have been to a talk on twentieth and twenty-first century attitudes to Antigone; as one does. In the questions afterwards I asked if I was the only one to see a parallel between the characters of Antigone and Thomas More with Henry VIII cast in the role of Creon. Judging from the derisive looks I received, I am indeed the only one. If you ever see a version of the play set in Tudor England then the kudos is mine.

The wise words of a chap with a beard

No beard soon equals no head

I've never had much time for Thomas Moore. Despite being one the cleverest men in Europe he wrote rubbish about Richard III and got himself executed. Way to go, Tom.

King Creon and his Coconuts

Newcastle-upon-Tyne

I've just been there. It was perishing cold. That's it really.

I've also been to the 138th Annual General Meeting of the Leeds Building Society. I was surprised by how many people turned up; or at least I was until the rush for the free sandwiches began even before the chair had declared the meeting over. One thing that didn't surprise me was how inarticulate most speakers from the floor were even when they had a good point to make. Nor, I suppose, was I entirely shocked by how the concept of mutuality doesn't actually mean that members are allowed to run things.

Number Ninja

I've been to see Matt Parker, the stand-up mathematician, who was appearing as part of the University of Leeds Festival of Science. It was very entertaining although I won't pretend that I learned a lot. It always staggers me just how thoroughly useless most people are at understanding basic probability theory.

I'm only wearing this because my Ninja outfit is in the wash

I had forgotten about Graham's number, but as it's unimaginably large anyway I'm not sure what benefit it is now that I've been reminded. Still it's interesting to note that the lower bound of the range whose upper limit is Graham's number has moved from 6 to 13 since I first heard about it all those years ago; in two stages as well. Ramsey theory of course does have applications in wargaming, but then again I'm sure you knew that already.

The traditional chap with a beard

Saving the best, and most wargaming relevant, for last: non transitive Grime dice. I'd never heard of these before, but are they neat or what?

Now, I've no idea how one would use them, but I think I shall buy a couple of sets and see what can be done.

The Angel's Share

I belatedly caught up with 'The Angel's Share', which I enjoyed, at the Seven Arts in Chapel Allerton, which I liked.

The film is light, but charming, and deals with the scope for redemption in all of us more convincingly than it does with the whisky industry or with the realities of carrying out a fraud/theft (haven't money-laundering laws reached Scotland yet?). The actors are good, although I at least was grateful for at least a couple of them not being from Glasgow; there were some stretches of impenetrable dialogue. And Roger Allam seemed to have wandered in straight from the set of Tamara Drewe. But it's funny - and what more does one want on a cold Monday night?

The Resistance

Played a few games of The Resistance at the White Swan yesterday and I was rather taken with it. As it happened I was never a spy so I can't say how it played from that perspective. We also played a game of Guillotine and one of Cosmic Encounter, both of which I won. The negotiation option of the latter seems rather weak to me. I just refused to ever agree to anything and took the loss of ships on the chin. You get them back sooner or later anyway.

She looks like a spy to me

St Patrick's day only intruded on the pub in a minor way although there was some interesting young person romantic interaction going on when I arrived. We didn't used to do it that way in my day I can tell you.

Speaking of young people, yesterday's re-enactors turned out not to be re-enactors at all. As far as I could establish they were Steampunkers there to admire and be admired amongst themselves rather than to interact with the general public. The costumes looked rather splendid close up and they seemed to be having a good time, but as usual one is left wondering what the point is.

A chap with a beard

What the Dickens?

And so to the theatre. I saw a sort of Dickensian spoof although the main character was the man himself, during his days as a parliamentary correspondent. It was a very funny combination of wordplay and physical comedy and featured such typical nineteenth century tropes as a one-armed man playing the guitar and an erotic, Scottish, Bollywood dancing pigeon-food seller.

A chap with a beard

I have great hopes that today's re-enactors will loosely continue the theme. The only one that I've seen so far looks, from this distance anyway, like Marie Lloyd. I suppose that as she's all alone it's possible that she's lost her way and don't know where to roam.

The Queen of the Music Hall

I shall pop down later to make sure that there is no dillying or dallying going on.

Battlegames

I listened recently to the edition of the Meeples and Miniatures podcast in which Henry Hyde explained from his perspective the recent night of the long knives at Atlantic Publishing. One of the things that I was especially pleased to hear was his assurance that subscriptions - including for those like me who subscribe to both titles - would be dealt with properly. They hadn't yet quite worked out what to do, but the best team available were on the case.

Henry Hyde and the Battlegames editorial staff

Being an accountant, I have of course been reassured on points like that many times over the years. I wasn't in the least surprised therefore to receive two things in yesterday's post. Firstly, the last ever edition of Battlegames and, secondly, a letter from the publishers of the same advising me that I had only two issues left on my subscription and inviting me to renew. The future is safe in their hands.

The People's Front of Judea

Maybe readers will wonder about my views on the implosion of the SWP; or then again. possibly they won't. I will keep it brief. In my view these are the chickens of the First International coming home to roost.

A chap with a beard

 

I once went to the Casa del Trotsky in Mexico City. Whilst I don't recall seeing any sign of chickens I did have my picture taken next to the great man's rabbit hutches. The house is just around the corner from Frida Kahlo's so we went there as well.

A woman who could probably have grown a beard had she felt like it

Same-same, but different...

...as they say in Thailand.

It seems to me that one sure way of identifying a good set of wargames rules is if you can refight the same battle and end up with a radically different game. On that basis 'Hell Broke Loose' rules for the Italian Wars are, like all Piquet and Piquet derived rules that I've ever played, excellent. I'm not suffering the same degree of Cerignola fatigue that James and Peter obviously are so I thoroughly enjoyed another futile French assault last night. It wouldn't be fair to describe the scenario as balanced - which is always the problem with refighting historical battles - but for both sides there it always looks as if that huge Swiss pike block will inevitably sweep all before it; and then it never does.

James had made a number of adverse changes to the French deck; entirely coincidentally now that he was playing the Spanish. He had also put the French skirmishers into deep formation. I thought this an improvement as they could now shoot far more often. I was in a minority of one though because the majority (and expert) view was that this was over-ruled by that they now couldn't actually shoot very well.

Anyway, as I said I rather enjoyed the first part of the game and look forward to its conclusion; however forgone that might be.

Luck

I won a bottle of wine in a raffle last night, thereby using up this entire year's supply of luck in one go. So watch out the Spanish forces in another refight of Cerignola tonight. More specifically, look out their commanders because you are surely doomed.

He knows exactly how it is

Figure painting

There is an interesting opinion piece in the latest edition of Wargames Soldiers & Strategy about figure painting. The thrust of it is that current standards of painting are actually directed at the requirements of photography rather than of actually gaming. The view that I've always taken is that good enough is, well, good enough. My experience at the games hosted by James Roach shows that is perfectly possible to game very successfully with fantastically painted figures. However, I have substantial experience that gaming with far less well painted figures can be equally good. Some of my fondest gaming memories are of the Mexican Revolution being refought, after a fashion with khaki all-over Airfix WWI standing in for the Federales. I can't for the life of me remember who represented the forces of Pancho Villa; I suspect that it was Airfix Confederates and/or Cowboys, again with one coat of Humbrol.

Happy Days.

Inspiration

Mystery

It is so unclear what the latest re-enactors at the Royal Armouries are meant to be that I have decided not to go and find out in case it's too big a disappointment. They look like they are supposed to be playing for the Wanderers against the Royal Engineers in the 1872 FA cup final, or possibly they are extras from Chariots of Fire. Having said that, one of them is wearing a sort of medieval quilted jacket and another is carrying something that looks like an oar but is only about five feet long.

On the cultural front, I have found some room for a bit of middlebrow entertainment and have been to see Ayckbourn's Sugar Daddies. The narrative line was unconvincing and didn't go anywhere, but with Ayckbourn one is guaranteed at least a dozen or so big laughs and so it proved.

And finally in this mixed bag of postings I offer a belated and perhaps oblique farewell to Hugo Chavez.

"Situation excellent. I shall attack."

Ferdinand Foch was spiritually with the French forces in the second part of the battle of Cerignola last night as they secured a massive moral victory.

According to Google this is Marechal Foch

Our left flank was solid: heavy cavalry, light cavalry, skirmish cavalry, artillery, skirmish infantry and, in particular, a unit of French pike that led personally by the Duc de Nemours had pushed back a Spanish corunella from the barricades. Admittedly our centre and right wing only had one unit of cavalry each - and both of those pretty beat up. And we didn't have any morale chips left. And we'd failed to carry the earthworks within the allotted time despite having virtually a whole extra run through the cards. These are mere details. I don't think anyone would seriously argue that the honour and glory of the day did not belong to us.

The French commanders perform their traditional victory dance

More board games

Back to the White Swan for some more board games. Another game of Family Business and then a turn at The Really Nasty Horse Racing Game. I'm not sure about the latter, but had to leave anyway  to prepare for a trip to London tomorrow. I am developing a taste for Leeds Pale Ale though.

Cow riding a motorbike

One of my imaginary readers has asked me why I never include any photographs of farmyard animals in amusing situations. That's a fair question and in an attempt to make amends I offer you this:

I'm sure that I don't need to point out that you shouldn't do this at home. If you must then wear a crash helmet. And the same goes for the bloke on the back.

'A surfeit of deadly sin...'

Today's cultural entertainment was Dr Faustus, mostly by Christopher Marlowe although with two new acts - not thankfully in faux archaic blank verse - replacing two of the original. It was a very busy production, possibly verging on the confusing. However much of the business was very good, with the special effects and illusions being a highlight. The cast were excellent with a special mention for Siobhan Redmond strutting her stuff in a basque as Mephistopheles.

"I don't remember putting Elvis in it"

Intellectually, I have to hold my hands up and admit that I have no idea what they were driving at. Sin is bad, perhaps? There were some nice digs at bankers and Australian media magnates, but possibly they were unnecessarily cruel to poor old Amy Winehouse. The staging of the exposition of the seven deadly sins reminded me of Jerry Springer: The Opera, which is no bad thing. The Pope spoke with what I believe was a German accent. Was that meant to be Benedict XVI in some sort of comment on the various scandals? Or was it simply that Faust was himself German? Redmond seemed to affect some sort of Mittel European accent, but she is from Glasgow so one should be grateful to understand her at all.

The relevance of this will be lost if you haven't seen the production

And, being shallow, I do like a play with a few recognisable quotes. "The face that launched a thousand ships"; that'll do nicely.

OWL

Who you screwin'. John?

I have been on the big wheel that has recently appeared in Leeds. Many people have voiced the opinion that it's in a pretty strange part of town and, of course, they are perfectly correct. Unless one is especially keen to know what is on the roof of Kirkgate market (hint - nothing) then I'm not sure why one would bother. Certainly not for the commentary which is provided by various clowns from local radio. The man from Flat Cap FM (I may not have caught the precise name of whom he represented) had an interesting way with the pronunciation of Dvořák; presumably his music not featuring heavily on their playlist. And I can't help feeling that the best time to big up Harry Ramsden's in Guiseley would have been before it closed.

So, if you are on the market with £6 burning a hole in your pocket, then my advice is to buy some samosas and a tub of that serious chilli sauce that they sell.

Vaguely in the direction of where I live