Havering on

Apologies for the lack of tasty gems these past four days - got waylaid by Eurodisney. Two days travelling there and back, and one day at the show itself.
You will be able to read my full match report in the Mail this week, probably Wednesday.
However, just between you and me, it's got to be a pretty special holiday if it's going to involve such a vast amount of travelling.
I'm now beginning to understand why my dad did not care to take his two boys on any journey that was over an hour long.

Havering: A very fine term. Scottish, you know, means to blither on witlessly with no purpose and no end in sight.
Now I met the good burghers of Havering on Wednesday night - and I can tell you I was pretty pumped. Energised. Like Frank Bruno going into the ring for the fight of his life.
Had spent all afternoon prepping up, writing up the script in full.
And then I arrived 30 minutes before the off. Had a half-pint to steady myself (but not too much to get ratted), and I was in. Binned my notes, and started telling them weird stories about my life.
I don't know but ... I think they liked it. (I had adopted Tom the publisher's mantra - pick out the two most glam women in the audience and fix your beady eyes on them. Thanks Tom - you Casanova, you)
Well I havered on, and delighted in landing Tom the Casanova in the mire over his wretched additions of that vomit-making word "bitter-sweet".
And then at the end. Any questions?
One woman pipes up and says, "You should be on Have I got News For You!"
Ahh me. Balm to my ears