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Not quite the Midlands, not quite the South, Banbury is like a shit northern town that missed the train home from a non-league game and decided to stay.

ALL top stars have their vices. For Mick Jagger it was pussy, for Keith Richards heroin, and for me it’s Haribo. Can’t get enough. No self-control. I’m ranking my top five.

A baby bird becomes attached to the first thing it sees after hatching. Like come on, shop around.

WAKING in my own bed, I am startled to discover I lie beside a slumbering horse.

AS A millennial, I don’t understand things the older generation are into like home ownership, Morrissey and penetrative sex. Today I’m trying to ‘send a letter’.

SERIOUSLY worried I’d been too successful out there, Sir Keir. They were clapping every other sentence of my big speech. Then I remembered: they’re nutters.

LONG-DISTANCE relationship? You can’t have sex if you’re not in the same place. Shag someone local.

No article about Brighton would be complete without mentioning that it has a pier you can walk onto, piss away the best part of 30 quid with nothing to show for it, then walk off again.

The difference between Ed Sheeran and an Ed Sheeran tribute act is negligible.

I AWAKE on my canal break in the Norfolk Broads atop a sunken narrowboat, a litre bottle of overproof rum by my side and effluent pouring into my mouth from a rusty pipe.