In Which Your Humble Blogger downplays for rhetorical effect how much he really likes some of the other punk bands, but that would totally take away from my point.
In Which Your Humble Blogger connects two sporting events that have no real natural connection, particularly in that the team YHB was rooting for won one of them.
In Which Your Humble Blogger starts talking about foul-mouthed politicians, and then figures, you know? Fuck it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger again is reminded that differences in scale become, at some point, differences in kind.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is just a trifle disappointed, whilst weeping like a fountain.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wants to know where all the little buggers are.
In Which Your Humble Blogger also thinks that the adapter got some other U/non-U things very slightly wrong, unless Antony Wilding is supposed to be non-U.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t have anything really to say, except that it seems like a Big News Story, with serious global repercussion, and also about cricket.
In Which Your Humble Blogger writes about cricket. Wait, why are you leaving? Oh, right, cricket.
In Which, having intended for some time to add to the monograph on tea preparation and consumption heretofore presented in this space, Your Humble Blogger at last is able to illustrate, graphically, a concept concerning the difference between, as an example, an ordinary breakfast blend, purchased in bulk, and the detritus that makes its way into a typical sachet.