So I was mowing my lawn, as ya do… well, as I do, you don’t cos you’re an old bourgeoise capitalist, probably Brexiteer, who wouldn’t get his hands dirty. Well I love dirty hands. Always have. Anyway, as I was filling up the mower I thought: I now spend more money on petrol for the mower than in the car. Cos if I put any in the new car, its a big mistake. And the old car doesn’t get used a helluva lot. For ecological, holier-than-thou reasons. It is no longer smug enough for me to drive.

I used to be a petrolhead. So what am I now? A battery head? I like to think I’m an airhead but to be honest, the air quality is so awful due to fuel emissions which YOU produce, that the air is currently unworthy. I really think its time that Sadiq Kahn’s wonderful Ultra Low Emission Zone be extended beyond the M25, up to Hadrian’s Wall. And those poor northerners who really can’t afford to be changing their cars will understand, in the approach to the next election, just what the Labour Party can really do for them. I wish to share our Mayor with the whole country. As I’m not allowed to drown him.

I would feel guilty about all my carbons whilst cutting the grass but it is completely mitigated by the guilt about waking all the neighbours from their afternoon naps. Electric mowers just lack the noise, as well as the potency of a good ole little 4-stroke.

Speaking to a Liverpool fan this morning, I briefly alluded to ‘football’ (from the depths of my team-induced misery and depression). And this saintly woman replied (from the depths of her very own team-induced misery and depression), “football? There is no football, not til next season”.

Yessss, I thought, the ostrich principle; bury your head in the sand until its safe to come up. Next season, that’s what its all about. Currently, there is NO football, so no need to comment. Report. Cry. Slit wrists. Nuffink.

Very happy Sunday

A xxxx