Because quite frankly one can become rather fed up with Sarah Raven fronting the Gardening section, when RHS-trained gardeners all know that it's Helen for whom we purchase the Telegraph. Now Helen, release another post in which you describe all the venues at which you are intending to peddle your books, because I can then sneak into the queues looking almost normal, and buy multiple copies. But don't let your agent get you on Saturday Kitchen, as I'm back at work on Saturday mornings now, and I can't be bothered to work out how to record.
This summer is going to be great.
And I've just discovered the greatness that is Lady Gaga. I was in the fast lane multi-tasking; that is, overtaking, reaching into the glove box for my friend Carl, and dropping merci beaucoup up to Manchester for a night out in China Town with the girls, when she slid a disc into the player and out burst Bad Romance at ear-splitting decibels. Utterly, utterly fabulous. I love the tribal tones, and if Derby County adopt it as their home game entry song, we are surely going for promotion!
Ra Ra-Ah-Ah-Ah / Roma Roma-Ma / Gaga Oh-La-La / Want Your Bad Romance.