Not every person over the age of 30 who talks to a child is a paedophile. Some people are just nice.

I have noticed that through the medium of song many seemingly outrageous party people proclaim their prowess. Often this is done by using the following lyric;
“Don’t stop ’til the break of dawn.”
When using this lyric it is important to note that the singer may be referring to dancing, drinking, loving or a combination of all three.

I say, why limit yourself? Why stop at the moment dawn arises? Surely a true rock ‘n roll attitude would dictate that one should continue way past dawn? In fact a true rock ‘n roll attitude would dictate that one should continue until it is physically impossible to go on any further. This may mean that dancing, drinking and loving come to an end mid morning; it may mean the frivolities cease at some unspecified time in the afternoon. I just don’t know.

So it’s not a case of ‘don’t stop ’til the break of dawn’, or even ‘don’t stop ’til you get enough’. Rather, it’s a case of ‘don’t give in, give out’.

UK motorists, will no doubt be familiar with the graceful and aspirational automobile, The Austin Maestro, which has ploughed our highways faithfully since 1983. However, the once mighty Maestro, replete with on board talking computer, has had its day, and today, there are fewer and fewer examples to be seen on our roads. So, in recognition of this this truly unique vehicle, I have devised this entertaining game of observation for two or more players, which I guarantee will enhance even the most tedious of journeys.

HOW TO PLAY
It’s easy to play the Maestro game. This is how it works: Upon observation of a Maestro you will score:

10 Points for Maestro Van
20 Points for a Parked Maestro
30 Points for a Moving Maestro
40 points for the sporty MG Maestro, whether moving or not
50 Points for a Gold Maestro, whether moving or not

The player with the highest score at the climax of the journey is the winner. Participants may find that a cry of ‘Maestro Alert!’ upon spotting a vehicle will enhance your playing experience. It will certainly help to avoid any confusion about who observed the offending automobile first. But beware! Don’t let your enthusiasm get the better of you in your quest for the golden beast. If you inadvertently spot a Montego by mistake, you incur an instant on the spot 50-point penalty.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
How much do I score for a Maestro which is stationery at traffic lights?
That’ll net the lucky observer 30 points. A Maestro is classified as parked only if there is no driver present.

How much do I score for a Gold Maestro Van?
Does such a thing exist? If you see one, get me a photo. And award yourself 100 points for your trouble.

Where can I find out more about this glorious vehicle?
Why not pay a visit to this practioner of virtual Maestro magic whose fine website is literally stuffed full of photographs of prime specimens and other fascinating Maestro facts.

http://www.maestro.org.uk/maestro/

—
The Maestro – formulated and controlled by Laborotiore Austin Rover

(With thanks to my good friend Steve Adam, who actually came up with this game. I just nicked the whole idea and wording from him).

Some folk argue that the world’s first rap song was “Rappers Delight” by the Sugarhill Gang. Others argue for more obscure tunes. They are all wrong. The world’s first rap song was in fact the theme tune to BBC 1970s sitcom ‘Are You Being Served’. Check these bangin’ lyrics. Debate closed.

Ground floor perfumery,
stationery and leather goods,
wigs and haberdashery
kitchenware and food…going up

First floor telephones,
gents ready-made suits,
shirts, socks, ties, hats,
underwear and shoes…going up

Second floor carpets,
travel goods and bedding,
material, soft furnishings,
restaurant and teas. Going down!

It’s not long to go now until the annual ‘Garsons Farm Scarecrow of the year competition’; an event the more culturally cultured amongst you will doubtless have heard of. As is the case every year at this time, my parents are busily putting the finishing touches to their creation. This year he’s a chap called ‘Burglar Bill’. And let me tell you, he’s a pretty impressive fella. He not only has a mask over his face, but he carries a bag with ‘Swag’ written on it. And he has a hooped top on. The whole creation is topped off by the adaptation of an old Ronald Reagan mask for his head. It’s simply genius!

My parents to be fair are rather dab hands at this sort of thing. In fact, I’m pleased to say that my parent’s scarecrows have been ‘Highly Commended’ three years on the trot now. But they cannot be complacent. And this is why I appeal you my loyal readers to send me your messages of support so that I can pass them on to Mr & Mrs Lucas directly. I feel that with your help we can give them that extra drive they need to really go for gold this year.

Please mail me your kind messages. Let’s make Burglar Bill the people’s choice.

Thank you.

I must apologise in advance for what will be the longest ramble I have yet written. I feel however, that when you see the question I have to consider, a pithy piece lightly touching the subject would be almost vulgar. The question I have been considering for a goodly few days now is this. What is the king of nuts? It is a difficult poser I’m sure you’ll agree, and before I delve into my ramble, I would like to make it clear that any conclusions are purely personal. I am not a scientist, I do not wear a white coat and I cannot offer any quantifiable empirical theorems to back up my research. But provide an answer I will. So dear reader, please continue.

It seems obvious to me that the starting point for my enquiries should be the peanut. This faithful old friend has been around for years, (certainly longer than my 37 years on this planet). What I like about the peanut is that it has no truck with the vagaries of fashion. No, the peanut adapts to fashion, starts fashions, shuns fashion. It is the maverick nut. One year the peanut is salted, the next, dry roasted. Sometimes it appears as hickory smoked, other times, honey roasted. Yes, the peanut is a fine nut; But the King of nuts? I think not. I liken the peanut to the Ford Fiesta. A reliable little fella who takes the admiration of many, but the aspirations of few. And that is the peanuts’ problem. It is not an aspirational nut. It’s an everyday nut, a safe-choice nut. And alas, that means that it cannot be the king of nuts.

So we move on to consider the family of nuts that are traditionally found in shops either unsalted or still in their shells. These are sort of nuts that one tends to buy once a year at Christmas. I offer the walnut, the hazelnut and the pecan in this category. Now, I am prepared to admit that all of these nuts are fine choices in themselves, but I think they lack the killer punch to come out trumps in my investigation. For example, the walnut’s taste is a little pert, and the nut itself looks like a squirrels brain. Further, In a Walnut Whip I feel confident in stating that it is the whip one desires, not the walnut! The hazelnut fares no better, for it really needs the addition of chocolate to give it any sort of credence. The pecan? Well, that’s a sort of ‘also ran’ nut. A weedy boy nut in the 400 metres school sports day that nobody cares about.

There is arguably one further nut that could be placed in the above category. I give it its own space here because of a couple of important factors. The nut I am talking about is the Brazil nut. This hefty beast is not only an impressive size for a snack appendage, but is rumoured by folk in the know to be a cure for depression. Fine credentials I’m sure you’ll agree. But they do not make it the king of nuts. The brazil nut is just not versatile or popular enough to be given the crown. I’m sorry about this, but my decision is final.

We move now to what I like to call ‘the connoisseur nuts’. These are the nuts that are found in high-priced supermarket assortments or luxuriously wrapped gifts from poncy food halls. I include here the macadamia nut and the almond. The macadamia is a fine nut and of an almost perfect size. It also has a most interesting origin, named as it was after Mr John Macadam, who was Secretary of the Philosophical Institute of Victoria, Australia. Fine credentials I’m sure you’ll agree. But wait. There is widespread confusion as to whether the macadamia is best served salted or unsalted. It is also not a versatile cooking nut, and its unavailability in all but the largest of supermarkets surely makes it ineligible to win the title King of Nuts. It is a fine nut though, and we should never forget that.

So what about the almond? The almond is a hero. It takes its place effortlessly in cakes, confectionary, cooking, or simply on its own. It’s a fine nut to nibble on. But woe-betide the fool who serves the almond salted. The almond is above being salted. It is a true gent of a nut. But is it the king of nuts? It is not. Something is missing. It’s not easy to put one’s finger on exactly what it is, but I think maybe the almond has a slightly acquired taste that ultimately lets it down. Shame though. I like the almond.

So we come finally to the last two nuts in my search for the king of nuts. And it is these two, that after long consideration, I have decided are the finalists that need to battle it out for the title. Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the two heroic behemoths of the nut world; the pistachio and the cashew.

First points must go to the pistachio, for it offers a truly unique experience. It is a nut that MUST be eaten from the shell. Bags of ready shelled pistachios are a complete let down, for they deprive the nut connoisseur of the great advantage that the pistachio has; Anticipation!

To add to this impressive trait, recent medical reports have suggested that the pistachio is a good food to lower cholesterol. Surely this must make it the king of nuts?

But wait. What about the cashew? Who can resist this fine nut? It is a truth universally acknowledged that a person having opened a bag of cashew nuts cannot possibly simply have ‘a few’. No. One must work through the bag quickly and diligently. Indeed, because of the greatness of the cashew, it is difficult to do anything else. Further to this, I argue that it is not possible to pick up a bag of cashews in a shop without feeling a happy and warm glow.

But it’s not just the taste and one’s desire to eat the nut that makes the cashew great. The cashew crosses social boundaries. It is the only nut that can be found in luxury nut assortments and the more run-of-the-mill high street offerings. Salted, unsalted, honey roast; the cashew is always there; A stalwart! This surely makes it worthy of the title “King of Nuts.’. It is the great social butterfly nut; The nut that brings us all together. And consider this. Just think of all the dishes that get cooked with the cashew nut. It’s virtually a staple ingredient in far eastern cookery and stir frys.

So, taste, happiness, social levelling, versatility. These are the qualities of the cashew nut. And that is why I crown the cashew, The King of Nuts.

I thank you.

If like me, you are not averse to patronising the more vulgar of our high street burger purveyors on rare occasions, you will share with me the simple joy of discovering a few rogue leftover fries sitting happily at the bottom of the paper bag under napkins or other assorted things. These are the hero fries; The fries that have liberated themselves from the rest of their brothers for that precise moment when you look down into the crumpled bag and sadly admit to yourself that the feast has come to an end. It is at then that the ‘hero fries’ poke themselves out from behind the napkin and offer themselves for the greater good.

It is a total joy to discover these potato friends. A joy much akin to finding a piece of rare art in a long forgotten loft I should imagine. Personally I get a quite vigorous rush of excitement and adrenaline. It only lasts a second or two, but it’s enough to cheer me up no end. Go on, admit it, you get that rush too!

Many of my loyal readers have contacted me to ask if I could help them by supplying the lyrics to the theme tune from early 80s BBC TV programme ‘The Paul Daniels Show.’  I’m delighted to be able to help, (but not a lot).

Here you are.

You’re gonna really like this
Really like it
(Not a lot, not a lot)
You’re gonna be delighted
Get excited
(maybe, but not a lot)
You’re gonna see a whole lot of magic
Look at this trick and that trick
And when he says it’s not a lot
You’ll agree it’s such a lot
He’s the man who excels
Paul Daniels

I love my coffee.  It is ‘de rigour’ to start my day with a lovely big mug of the magic bean.  For it to be perfect however it needs to follow some simple steps.  Firstly, it should be of medium strength, (although when I’m feeling a bit of a maverick I’ll have it strong).  Secondly, it should be black, for I will not tolerate the evil cow sap ruining my pleasure.  Thirdly, it must be served without the adornment of sugar.  Finally, (and this is really the point of my rambling) the coffee should be drunk when warm.  This does not mean hot, it means warm.  Everybody I have met (and I mean everybody) disagrees with me.  They feel that coffee is best served piping hot, roasting hot and burning hot.  They are wrong.  Coffee is best drunk warm, so one can savour the sips and not run the risk of burning ones tongue.  I also strongly believe that drinking warm coffee is the best way to savour the flavour. Is there anybody out there who shares my view that coffee should be drunk warm?  Let me know if you agree and we can be friends.

I don’t like people who use the word ‘property’ when the word they really mean is house or flat. Estate agents use this word, as well as smug couples on TV house buying shows. They say things like, “We’re searching for a new property,” or, “this property suits our needs.” Oh get over yourselves. You’re not some big wheeling real estate millionaires. Grrrr!

I’m getting a little upset with the Churchill Insurance ads on the telly. You know, the ones with the nodding dog who says, “Ohh Yes.” Well, when the ads started out, the dog was a tiny thing who sat on the rear shelf of a car affirming all the questions that were asked of him. Now he seems to have grown in size. He’s a huge beast. I’d say he was probably the size of a small Yorkshire Terrier. Not only that, the ad people have deemed it necessary to remove him from his rear parcel shelf, and now he travels around Britain, sits on a plinth and invites people to ‘challenge Churchill’. But what I really don’t like about the new adverts is the improved vocabulary of the dog. In his early days he just said, “ohh Yes.” or “ohh No.” Now he says all manor of things. This is particularly true of the radio adverts where I’ve heard him mutter, “You’re right madam.” Surely that’s just wrong!

So, in short, I’m not happy. The Churchill dog should be small, sit in the back of a car and be limited to two phrases.

Following on from my thoughts on the great British jam doughnut the other day, I have to report a minor disappointment with the admittedly largely faultless treat. That fault is this. I tend to find that the lovely red jam in the doughnut is rarely placed right in the middle of the doughnut. It invariably sits towards one end. This is all well and good if you start eating the mighty cake from the correct end, but get it wrong and you find that you’ve got your way through the jam before you’ve really had time to savour the doughnut. It’s a most disappointing state of affairs. I suffered this problem yesterday, when, feeling like a maverick, I purchased the rather radical ‘Iced Jam Doughnut’.

Let’s hear it for the jam doughnut. Why? Because despite an onslaught from modern brands such as Krispy Kreme and early 90s pace-setters Dunkin Donuts, it holds its own; resolute, steadfast and true in all the bakers of this great and cultured nation. It’s easy to forget that when we pay our £1.20 for a single Krispy Kreme, we could pay the same money and get 10 good old honest-to-goodness British Jam doughnuts. Don’t get me wrong, I’m partial to a Krispy Kreme as much as any member of my species, but I’m worried that our traditional jam filled treat is being forgotten in this increasingly brand-centric age. Do your bit citizens. Reacquaint yourself with the British Jam Doughnut.

P.S I’ve used the traditional spelling of Doughnut throughout this ramble. I’m not succumbing to ‘donut’. Urghh!!

I loathe U2 with a passion; always have done, always will. The result of this is that my motorhome has long been a U2 free zone. The moment any song by this evil band comes on the radio I change frequency straight away. That policy has stood me well for a long while. Now however, I have gone one stage further. As part of a process of spring-cleaning my van, (it is after all my house too) I have decided to make the U2 policy official. To this end I have printed off a notice which says, “THIS VAN IS A U2 FREE ZONE.” It has pride of place inside the cab for all visitors to see. It also adds as a helpful reminder for those visitors not to start any conversation about U2 or Bono. I’m very pleased with my new sign.

It’s occured to me that there may be something I’m addicted to beyond Diet Coke. That something is flip flops. I love them, I live in them and I can’t get enough of them. I’ve just bought my tenth pair off a friendly African man at Greenwich market. I’m not sure whether I’m going over the top. On the one hand I don’t wear anything but flip flops, so it’s sort of just like any person owning ten pairs of assorted footwear. On the other hand, nobody needs ten pairs of flip flops do they? Please be so kind as to let me know what you think. I’d be very grateful. Thanks.