Nothing, says ANDY HEDGECOCK, can rescue this undistinguished amalgam of ponderous melodrama and shallow philosophical speculation
LAST Saturday was, quite simply, one of the happiest days of my life. I was driving out of Harlow after an absolutely fantastic book-launch gig in the town where I had been based for much of the ’80s and done all my early gigs when I heard the leadership election result.
I found a lay-by, stopped the car and listened with joy to Jeremy’s acceptance speech, immediately deciding to rejoin the Labour Party — which I’ve now done.
And, later that day, Brighton won to go four points clear at the top of the Championship.
The bard invites readers to a gig, raps for Clacton, and lays out the Burnham-Hurzeler conundrum
In verse and polemic, the bard points out that he is a poet and musician, not a political party
The bard tours Finland and tampers with the cuisine
The Bard commutes to work for the first time in 45 years



