Down in the dumps? My Special Friend put me on suicide watch for the rest of Saturday. But credit to Posh, and here I'm going to take a deep breath, they deserved their victory. There, I've said it.

Okay the crucial first goal was dodgier than a city broker short selling HBOS shares (handball, ref!) but you win some, you lose some, and then in my boys' case, you lose some more.

I went to the game on Saturday as the guest of the good people of the city council, who I thank for their hospitality.

I'd also like to thank Cambridgeshire Constabulary for providing all of us Leeds fans with our very own personal officer for the day.

There were so many cops in Peterborough city centre on Saturday I thought the donut vanin Cathedral Square must have had a special promotion on.

Police with dogs, police on horses, police up in the sky in a helicopter, and van after van full of, yes you've guessed it, more police.

Blimey, how much did that cost? And that's without taking into consideration the translation costs of explaining to irate Yorkshiremen that "No, you can't take your whippet into the ground.''

To be fair to the boys in blue, it was a difficult call – if trouble had flared and they hadn't enough manpower to handle it they would have come in for some flak.

As a veteran of many Leeds games both home and away, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and just say they weren't taking any chances.

But as we taxpayers' foot the bill we should be told how much that little operation cost. If not, the chief constable shouldn't expect too much sympathy the next time she's complaining she needs more cash.

Anyway, after I was escorted back to Thornton Towers by my own personal policeman, I settled down in front of the telly for the second helping of my Saturday sports double header– the rugby league grand final.

Thankfully, Leeds Rhinos had all the things Leeds United had lacked at London Road earlier in the day – passion, poise and power and emerged deserved winners over hot favourites St Helens.

They restored my faith in all things Leeds and because I'm now back to my usual happy self, I asked my pal, former Spice Girl and Leeds lass Mel B to model our new away strip (babes' section).

I hope I've proved I'm a good loser . . . especially as I didn't mention Dagenham & Redbridge.

(... and you didn't mention Rotherham either – Ed.)



Fishermen are always carping on

Anglers are worse than farmers when it comes to moaning. If they can't catch fish it's never their fault. First it's the cormorants, then it's migrant workers who fancy pike and chips for their dinner.

The latest to suffer as the fishermen cast their net of blame are the Nene's newly resident seals Sammy, Salty, and Saddam.

When it comes to stating the obvious seals eating fish is right up there with bears pooing in the woods and the pope attending mass.

Still the fishermen should count themselves lucky. . .