Ted Max

Residents of Fellbrigg Road are often woken by the sound of a dray horse clattering up their street at night, snorting in terror. Cats will not step foot in 168B, Barry Road. The door on the third cubicle down on the left at the East Dulwich Baths often swings open, despite users swearing they have locked it securely. The spare room at 32 Glengarry Road cannot be heated beyond 8?C, even on the hottest summer day. A small child dressed in Victorian clothing will often join those waiting for the 13 bus at the bottom of Whateley Road. He waits for the bus, growing ever more nervous, and then when it arrives runs away in terror.

Green & Blue.

If I happened to glance at once of the historical romances, Wolf, it was merely the literary equivalent of losing the remote control and finding oneself watching an entire episode of Footballers' Wives.

My interest lay in the detective novels, of course.

She lives in Odiham now, with the ex-head of the local Parish council. The head waiter of the Far Dominions has a small chain of mobile phone retail outlets in the Market Harborough area. His son is studying PPE at Oxford. Geoff can be found occasionally enjoying a hot chocolate at quiet times outside Melange, his teeth proudly on the table before him. I've never told him about the candles.

I suppose under the 30 year rule I can now point out that, far from emigrating, it turned out that Mrs Marjoribanks had in fact been in the throes of an intoxicating two month fling with the head waiter at the Far Dominions curry house on the Goldhawk Road. When she returned Geoff, her husband, had piled all her belongings in the middle of the street. I helped myself to the candles and her Georgette Heyer collection.

I'll probably treat myself to a brick of coal around late October Ted. I can lend you a candle if you're feeling a bit nippy round Christmas if you're, you know, a bit short of funds. The pocket book does seem a little slim this year, BBW. I'm well off for candles though, having been left half a gross by Mrs Marjoribanks next door when she emigrated to the far dominions in 1976. A couple of whisky macs ready behind the bar at the Prince Albert would be a warming thought, however.

Aye, it's bonanza time for the gas men, and the chimney sweeps too. I am looking forward to the smell of roasting dust (and ladybird wings) you get when you first fire up the radiators.

Anyone had the heating on yet?

"Nice tits, where do you want the blinds?"

Worse, they don't have pavements. All babies in the countryside drive untaxed Subarus runnning on Red Diesel, while their parents lie in the boot injecting each other with sheep dip and strangling badgers. It's not the idyll some make it out to be.

They do Bass (a real ale, btw) by the pint, as well.

Coleridge! would be a good name for a TV detective series. Probably one of the more upmarket ones, with all a bit of poetry and that for confusing his dogged but limited assistant. So basically Morse or Linley, then, but with a poetry motif instead of opera/ unresolved sexual tension.

D.I. Robert "Jack" Frost had that whole "looking miserable in an anorak for two hours" gig sown up decades ago.

You could try opium I suppose. I loved De Quincey. He was ahead of his time. He was doing that coroner/ investigator thing years before CSI. EDITED for Clarity, and her estranged companion Wolfie, who is struggling a little.

Is there any other way to write a book?

Shit hitting the fan. Pt II. http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01485/craig_bellamy_1485528c.jpg

1. Attach your image using the attach a file button. 2. Save your post. 3. Open the attachment in a new window/tab 4. Copy the url from that window. 5. Now edit your post, click on the mountains image and insert the url you have just copied 6. Save changes

Click "Edit" on your post with the image. Then open up that image and C&P the url. That is the image url you insert. Sorry, first you must attach the image from your desktop using the "Attach a file" button. Then do the above.

It's s_n_o_r_k_y on his partner's log in, innit. Just give the man a new user name, FFS.

broader views This is the nub of it, isn't it? There's not much point adding a third bozo if all he's going to do is parrot the same canoe-thighed banalities of the first two. Witness the paper thin differences to be discerned between Hansen, Lawro and Big Al on the MOTD sofa. It was the same in cricket when Sky had Botham, Willis and Allot, an identikit trio of Sunday-morning-car-washing boredom. But chuck in a Nasser or an Atherton...

Historians are also now agreed that what Henry thought was an MMS of Anne of Cleves sent to him by Holbein, was in fact the result of him clicking accidentally on a WAP link to adult site "Damsels_in_undress". This early example of multimedia spam eventually cost Cromwell his head, and cost England years of political and military insecurity.

Keeping up with Henry VIII's Ffriends and Ffamily plan was an admin nightmare for his service provider, by the way.

In The Tudors Cromwell is pictured receiving a gloating SMS from the ambassador to the Holy Roman Emperor, which is ridiculous because there was no cross-network interoperability for text messages until after the Union of the Crowns in 1603.

Dear Alan Green (and other radio commentators - but mainly Alan Green). Here is a list of things I couldn't giveafuckabout. 1. The traffic on the M6. 2. How close you could park your enormous arse to the ground 3. If there is some small part of the field you have to crane your fat neck to see. 4. If a female runner has brought you a coffee and a doughnut yet 5. How cold it is where you are sitting. 6. If "United are playing left to right" as you look at it 7. If the man in front of you occasionally gets to his feet 8. How late it will be before you get home Yours, T. Max