Dom's Rambles

There are strange forces at work at the moment. On Saturday not only did I hear from Malcolm for the first time in more than a decade, that same afternoon who should come strolling in the pub but the guy Mötley Süe (as I call her in the story) started shagging the moment I baled from her place in September of 1990. Aged punk rockers the Angelic Upstarts played a gig in Lincoln on Saturday and he had come over from Sheffield to see them.

No, I don't mean the next chapter has been uploaded, I mean that my efforts to get in touch with the guy have been fruitful and I got a phone call from him (real name Malcolm) this morning - and that's the first time we've had contact in 13 years.

Of all my former acquaintances Malcolm was the one I always thought I'd remain friends with and I'm absolutely over the moon about finding him, which means there's only one thing for it:

Wasn't the final episode of Life on Mars superb last night? The show is the only thing currently on TV that can hold a candle to The Sopranos and I find it particularly enjoyable as the character of Gene Hunt is unsettlingly similar, both in looks and manner, to my old boss at Sims Metal - except that Gene Hunt wasn't addicted to hard core porn.

Were it not for the fact that I refuse to fund the broadcast wing of The Guardian out of principle, I'd say LoM justified the license fee on its own.