So, what did you do last week?

What did we establish over the course of last week?

A number of things:

• One local council, whenever they had their Communication is Key training day, the sports pitches people were unable to attend. Or didn’t pay attention. Or paid attention, but have now forgotten.

• Rich has played the old course at Augusta. Fantastic. We did notice a resemblance to the golfer who likes Augusta like no other. From tee to green, Rich played like Fred Couples. On and around the greens, he played like Fred Flintstone. Either too many Wheetabix, or someone’s taken his putter and replaced it with a sledgehammer. At one point, it looked like Thor’s sledgehammer.

• I play golf so seldom that a missing bag of clubs has gone unnoticed for weeks, and if cricket had not been cancelled, would’ve remained unnoticed for some time to come.

• All together now… “oh you can’t trust the specials like the old time coppers, to catch the blokes what robbed your road”. Actually you can’t trust the coppers, but the retired librarians in fancy dress and women who failed the social worker exams? You may as well try calling in Ghostbusters.

• If I don’t love you, and you hack me off, I’m hacked off forever. Your death won’t change anything.

• Arsenal can hold their own against the league champions (according to the full glass gang).

• Arsenal can’t turn over a tired, jaded, hungover and uninterested United side, at home, when we really need the points. (According to the glass empty emos).

• Actually, there’s a lot to do at Arsenal over the summer to avoid yet another potless, frustrating season of backsliding, and plenty to do between now and the end of this season if champions’ league qualification is to be attained.

• You can sunburn yourself to the point of swollen joints, in England, in April (note to anyone with UK tourist board connections, this story is for sale at the right price).

• There’s some people in the property industry who shouldn’t be in the Polly Pocket industry. There’s one who, when everyone else is out of earshot, is having that explained, in the one-syllable words his amoeba-like nervous system might just comprehend. I’ll wait.

• Karen Brady wants into politics. Thick. Thick-skinned. Perfect candidate.

• “Hey diddle diddle there’s a fellah in the middle, and I think he’s pulling my string, My wife’s lactating and I’m spectating. It’s a football thing.” In a wider environment where vociferous minorities hold sway, our house is a microcosm of just that. MM (first word: ‘goal’) was born in a World Cup year. He’s passionate, intelligent, committed, loves playing, knows and understands his football. We have shouted, bullied and probably raised our agenda above its natural level in a three-fifths uncommitted household. That’s a good thing.

• WWYT? Great interview on the radio this morning. Went like this:

“Will you be voting?”

“Nope”

“And why is that?”

“Because they’re all the same and nothing changes.”

“Really? I have the local candidates here, would you take the time to talk to them?”

“Sure”

Later replayed with the introduction above and the dénouement below:

“Talked to them. Still not voting.”

The civilised world settled down to being run by the political classes a long time ago. History isn’t a strong point, but it’s a long old time. We still have war, plague, famine, pestilence, starving millions, and a small, wealthy minority. Good job guys. Bring me a real paradigm changing agenda and I’ll have reason to vote.