Right, another chance to alternately build our spirits up and then disappoint them. I can't be bothered to change the winning move so it's still Mornington Crescent.
And so does Mrs Trellis, who reliably informs me that there is a thriving drugs scene in these ultra-respectable Welsh versions of the Costa Geriatrica.
You have just realised that the clerical error means that you are now haunting Lancashire, when in fact the true depth of the error is that you never actually died yet.
My football team steadfastly follows the maxim "And pigs might fly" when it comes to winning - still, being bolt on trotters, it's to be expected. Lovely, Rosie, that brought out a large chuckle. Fortunately the better half is out shopping. :)
I shall stick equally steadfastly to my self-imposed prohibition against mentioning anything to do with my football team, except to say, contrary to what a historian might assume, that it is not located in a small village in North Yorkshire.
You get sacked for some misdemeanour in the broom cupboard, you try to appeal but realise you haven't got a leg to stand on. [ penelope, please get my coat while your at it ]
...which means it gets burned down in a midnight raid by Clan Campbell, the hereditary enemies of Clan MacDonald ever since the days of the Glencoe Massacre.
The sheer tenuousness of the story means that we've forgotten it, and we can now place ourselves wherever we like - say, as president of the United States.
'Good News' and 'Bad News' are now indistinguishable, meaning that newsreaders need no longer practise 'good news' and 'bad news' facial expressions and the ban on botox treatments and collagen lip-implants for newsreaders is lifted.
You're going with them, and because you've been designated an enemy combatant you won't have access to a lawyer, the right to trial, or even knowledge of what you are accused of while you languish in prison for an unspecified number of years.