Banging On

If our columnist had a time machine and went to 1988 and we pulled the plug out, accidentally, it would only take him 30 years to walk home from the past. Oh look, here he comes now…

Welcome to the the official sports pages of electronic music. Going where no man has gone before, eh? If he’s not careful our unhinged columnist will be queuing up where lots of people have been before – the dole office

All aboard for another wild wordy ride with our, what do call it? Oh yes, columnist. There are sick bags under your seats should they be required

Blah blah blah, part-time columnist blah blah filing copy late blah blah rattling on about something or other blah blah haven’t really read it blah blah is it any good this month?

Say there was someone, and He (or she) was sending us weird rambling emails And despite asking, he (or she) wouldn’t stop. We should call the police, Right? Anyway, here’s whatshisface

It had to happen, our wotnot columnist person has been unleashed, let into the real world to talk out loud. To other people. Maybe you should go see him. We can’t, we’re washing the office that day

Deluded, misguided, ill-informed, flawed, confused, and for the most part, barking up the wrong tree. Oh, sorry Fats, opened A letter addressed to you by mistake. It’s from your doctor…

Starting 2018 as he means to go on, Our columinst has been working hard on his late copy excuses. This month: “my column is late, I ate the dog”

“It’s Christmas time and there’s no need to be afraid”, goes the song. Thing is, it’s when our loose cannon of columnist is at his most dangerous…

A man who can’t understand that disco biscuits and chocolate biscuits aren’t quite the same thing, our… what’s that? He’s done it again, hasn’t he?