I’ve been moved to write for the first time in a while by a shocking experience today.
I was returning from the particularly dispicable doorstepping of a vulnerable member of society when I heard a familiar voice on the radio.
Kate Rusby. Oh she’s so lovely. A voice that could break your heart and all that. Oh yes, this will sooth my tortured soul.
But who’s that singing with her? No … it can’t be. It is, isn’t it.
Ronan Keating. Better known, even to his mother, as Ronan Fucking Keating.
But there it is. Fate rarely smiles on those who doorstep.
That dirty pig furtling animal.