An admission

life

I made a big decision today. I came out as an Archers listener. Note that I said "listener", not "fan". This is very important. I don't, for instance, feel the need to write to the BBC and complain that cows take about 300 days to be cured of mastitis, and NOT two weeks as the so-called writers believe1. Nor do I believe that Ambridge is a real place. I know this because:

  1. Everyone knows each other, and, more importantly, speaks to one another.
  2. Ambridge has a village shop, and people buy things in it every day.
  3. No one goes to a big supermarket.
  4. Everyone who lives in the village works in it. It is not full of people who visit at the weekends and find it "terribly convenient for the City - just a quick hop down the motorway in the Beemer on a Friday night".

Despite all that, it's blummin' exciting at the moment. Mr. Smarmy-Love-Rat-Git-Face-Bastard (aka Brian Aldridge) has finally been found out, and now has to choose between sultry Irish temptress Siobhan, and long-suffering wife and cake-baker extraordinaire, Jennifer. It'll all end in tears, you mark my words.

1When surfing briefly to check the correct recovery rate (I know - I'm a sad sad person, but I aim for accuracy), I discovered that there is a journal called Udder Topics. I must subscribe immediately.

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