I, of course, remained aloof from this general perv-ing. However, I had to step in when phase 2 kicked in which involved every salivating sentence beginning or ending with the phrase "except for the ginger one''.

Said Ginger one has a name. It is Nicola and she has a higher purpose in life than being eye candy for a load of sad old blokes.
She is a carrier of the ginger gene and as such is a goddess in my eyes.

Talking bollards again
Rather immodestly, I'm giving myself a small pat on the back for some success in my one-man campaign to restore Cathedral Square to the beautiful and vibrant city centrepiece it should be.

One simple, yet seemingly unachievable, improvement would be to stop all the vehicles illegally using the square and adjoining Church Street as the best (and cheapest) car park in the city.

So I was pleased to see the police clamping down on Tuesday, but we still need a permanent solution.

Placing retractable bollards in Long Causeway has been much talked about but would seem is more difficult than putting a man on the moon.

Bucketful of reasons to stay in the car
wandering through the bus station on my way to Queensgate I noticed this plastic box collecting rainwater.

The roof, as roofs do, had sprang a leak. But this box had been there for several days, maybe even weeks, with no sign of anybody doing the repair.

And in these days of zealous health and safety rules it was quite shocking to see no warning cone or anything else in place to alert people to what was clearly a hazard.

It seems to me an example of how bus users don't get treated with the respect other consumers do. And until they do, government, councils and the green lobby can bang on all they like about the beauty of buses, but those of us who have the choice will be sticking with our cars.
Instead of trying to tax us out of our cars why isn't their proper investment in public transport?

P.S. The day after The ET snapper took this picture, the box had disappeared. Unfortunately, the leak hadn't and in the box's place was a damp patch.

They've got your number
Thirteen million Brits suffer from nomophobia also known as the fear of being out of mobile phone contact. I suffer from the opposite. But then as those with my number, include My Special Friend, the editor and some numpty who keeps telling me I've won £5,000, is it any wonder?