It’s grim up North…cripes, now I know why Santa stays in 364 days a year. But alas, we return to Merrie England this evening to pulverise some polyamorous pints as we rub shoulders (and rhubarbs) with The Crumby Beard ! And lemme tell you, there was some serious vegetation on parade at THIS county fair (we really need to trade manscaping tips off-air)
Up tonight: Sticks and names may break my bones but Stones will never hurt me (as long as I don’t touch that 8th can) then we struggle to keep a tight hold of the Leeds whilst the mad Monk’s Transient drags us into the bushes…this dog walking gig is a real drag. Cheers !