Marc Bolan of T-Rex demonstrating why drugs and rock and roll don’t always mix well.

Snow can be heartless.

Sometimes the random voices come to me mid-afternoon; lunchtime, maybe half one, replete with a plateful of hot, buttered crumpets. They try to convince me to become a Seventh Day Adventist, take up rollerblading and invest in pork belly futures. It never works, even with the crumpet bribe.

Does anyone ever use the last one? Have the same ‘last bags’ been around since the dawn of time? Did Alexander the Great once look in his tea chest, see one sad little bag and immediately rush off to the shops for more?

Sooty and the crew. Where are they now?

Beak or lips? Who knows? Probably someone but not me. Either way they’re adept at using those things that help you get lids off jars. You know the ones. Your Gran probably has one somewhere,