WE’VE all had them, those incomprehensible official forms that have you tearing your hair from its roots in frustration.

BACK in the 1970s, whenever one drove anywhere near Willie Whitelaw’s home at Ennim, near Blencowe, there was a rustling movement in the bushes.

QUITE simply, we’re in the wrong game. We should have become Z-list celebrities, making our fortune on the after dinner speaking circuit or opening waste recycling facilities.

THERE was a time when this country had a proud and honest working class.

WE may as well start looking now, before the dark days of winter are upon us.

A CUMBRIAN snooker club got its money’s worth the night it booked the legendary Hurricane Higgins. By the end of the interval Higgins, a heavy gambler, had put the majority of his appearance fee back into the fruit machine in the bar.

IN the immortal words of the preening Captain Alberto Bertorelli of the Italian army in the comedy classic ’Allo ’Allo, “what a mistak-a to make-a”.

REMARKABLE chap this John Sentamu, Archbishop of York.

NO wonder the criminals are laughing at us.

HALLELUJAH with jolly great big knobs on. At last politicians have seen sense and delivered one in the eye for the barmy politically correct brigade.