*Bob*

Come on now, Gents. Be honest - hand on heart - ?25m for doing Ringo up the rotbox. Just once. No kissing. Cash in hand. Anyone who says they wouldn't is a barefaced liar.

For ?25m? I'd do Ringo up the wrong 'un for half that amount. (up front, please)

Congratulations to Heather McMills.. she's achieved for Paul what Mark Chapman did for Lennon - without the need for the whole shot-dead-thing. And you can't put a price on that. (But if you had to, it would be around ?24.3 million)

These damned Dutch. They come over here with their Dutch flowers, parking in their Dutch ways, comin' on all.. Dutch.. with everyone.

On another (betting-related) note, did any of you betting-types get involved in the 'free $1000 bet' a year or so back? The one regarding the outcome of a certain NFL game?

ITV royalties. "The shittier the stick, the better the poking". Owzat!

You've rumbled me. I use to have a career. Prospects. Standing in the community. A trade. Now all I can do is count how many minutes of my dismal music they use on ITV each week, multiply by 75 and wait for the paltry royalties to arrive. I blame it on Labour. Or is it the Tories. One of those two. Pah!

I beg to differ, Blinder. Writing for cheerleaders with special regards for pom-pom moves is not as easy as you might think. I shall colour-code the moves for you, so you can get a better idea of how it scans. Red = arms extended forward, 'punch' move Blue = Body in star jump position, wrists shaking pom-poms Yellow = punch motion upwards.. final punch embellished with a shake Go Keef! Go Keef! East Dulwich Forum Knockin' 'em for um Six! Six! Six!

Sounds like Our Boys will have a ready-made cheerleading team. They'll need a chant though. Now let me think.. Go Keef! Go Keef! East Dulwich Forum Knockin' 'em for um Six! Six! Six! You can have that one for free.

I'll play if it's French Cricket - you know - the one for kids where you're not allowed to move your feet. But the hard-ball-in-face/knackers combination is not for me. I'm a wuss.

"The Poor" It doesn't seem to matter how poor 'the poor' are: they always seem to be able to budget for Sky and a large-ish television.

Anna, My advice is: be more choosy about who you take home next time. Start hoovering or something and he'll soon get the message.

So.. apart from the beer, girls and chance for snigger - not much going for it then? Fair enough.

Shouldn't that be 'asbo feckin lutely', Mightyroar?

Excellent. I may even turn-up and watch (incognito, naturally)

Getting your Mum to do the legwork for you shows initiative. All the girl has to do now is demonstrate that she can function individually as well as part of a team - and her CV will be complete.

Don't worry everyone! There are still plenty of options available locally to buy and eat really cheap, horrible food - if you must.

Is it not perfectly possible to both: a) not want Black Cherry to close b) accept that BC wants to get the locals on side - and that a timely thread posted on the forum from a relative unknown who just happens to have to hand all the relevant emails of the people supporters ought be lobbying - might be the best way of doing so? (Columbo accent) "And theres just one more thing that's botherin' me..."

Not me, Macroban. I've done my service in the field of archaeological research, and I can exclusively reveal that it mostly boils down to dreadocks, marijuana, listening to The Levellers - and 99.9% guesswork based on 0.1% evidence.

At the archaeologists press conference: "From this tiny piece of flint, discovered after a fifteen week dig" (holds up for camera) "we have deduced that the peoples who lived here ten thousand years ago probably lived like this" (shows picture of village, clothed people, dogs running, fire burning, crops being sown, dancing round campfires, meat roasting, babies being swaddled..)

The Theatre Was is it with The F**king Theatre? It starts too early to allow you a proper meal before. It finishes too late to have one after. You arrive late anyway - as usual. The seats squeak. Fat people squeeze past. Their arses brush against your midriff. You smile politely and pretend it didn't happen. During the interval you are treated to some warm, appalling white wine - served in a plastic glass. Some people discuss the first half loudly whilst leaning back on one foot, hand on hip and looking up at the ceiling. I want to kick them in the shins. Others frantically text or rush out to puff on a miserable cigarette. There is something about urinating in The F**king Theatre which is most unsettling. I can't quite put my finger on it, but every time I'm in there - in a row of silent men all staring dead ahead (hoping no-one thinks they're trying to sneak at look at anyone else's cock) - I just want to scream something utterly profane, pull my trousers down and curl one down right there and then. But what would be the point? Everyone would pretend not to notice. There are only two dryers and twenty men pissing. Do I hover and prolong the agony, or do I have a cursory splash and shake and hurry off, hoping no-one is thinking you dirty bastard. And then a bell rings. And it's back to more of the same. Prepare to suspend that disbelief TO THE MAX. The man three seats down bellows with ostentatious laughter at the poorest of gags. And then it hits me. He's laughing as the lines are said. This c**t has seen the show before! Probably last week. He gets all the jokes and boy does he want you to know it. Thank god I had the foresight to stock-up on warm wine and two pots of Haagen Dazs. I can't stop looking at the people in the 'box' opposite. Yes, I know it's a box and that makes you special, but is their any need for you to drape your coats, arms and legs over the side of it like you're at home on your sofa? Why not go the whole hog and order a pizza and flick the crusts at the proles below? Is it rude to leave before the cast have had all of their curtain calls? Including the 50/50 one where they weren't sure but thought they'd do it anyway? I would if I wasn't so polite, but I suppose I'll remain seated, clapping half-heartedly like an imbecile to the very last. So there you have it. The F**king Theatre, creeping into your life as you get older. Like death.

Indeed, Snorks.. I was about to add.. you don't start a business based on speculative possible extensions to that business that may be denied, do you? I would, however, like to add that I'm not a businessman and no absolutely diddly squat.

I read it more in a 'Black Cherry would really like to use the area at the back so would like to gather support on this matter from as many people as possible'. Black Cherry 'may' have to close.. but that doesn't mean it's either a garden area or bust, does it?

Absolutely nothing of interest or note whatsoever. But - on a personal note - if I ever hear anyone on television or radio ever use the phrase 'gas guzzling' again, I'm going to find them, hold them down and fart in their face until they promise never, ever to say it again.

Would doing yourself in (unassisted) be an option? I think that's the only part you haven't covered..