Ah well, happy birthday to me for today, then. 39, going on 69 some might say, and well, you can but hope. Started my celebrations early last night and as a consequence I had too fuzzy a head to haul my sorry arse up to Wolverhampton in time for the Brendan Benson acoustic PA. If anybody went please let me know.

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Not that I feel like talking about football at the moment, as I post this the Hammers are five points adrift of safety with just six games of the season left. That fat bird is just about to get to the microphone, I reckon. But that's enough about Clare Balding reporting on the Grand National, methinks.