Dances With Chazzwazzers

Thought The Big Question was for Sunday’s only, then think again. Whereas I can’t bring you house wife’s favourite Nicky Campbell segueing serenely around a studio, elegantly trying his best to look interested in the mawkish contributions of the audience-by-numbers of under loved and over nourished provincial towns, I can still pose the type of rigid enquiry usually associated with facing a searching spell of James Tredwell off-break on a wearing third day St.Lawrence Ground pitch. Today’s conundrum is as follows.

Which is your favourite platt?

That question again, which is your favourite platt? Not the type of question you thought you’d be spending time considering today I dare say. I wouldn’t expect you, reasonably, to answer that immediately. To help you in your contemplation, may I proffer a few suggestions.

Here’s mine.

The Bob Cunis of the savoury based meat snacks world, owing to it being neither one thing (sausage roll) nor the other (pork pie), the noble sausage plait is criminally underrated. Comprising pastry, sausage, onion and herbs ostensibly, add one or two tomatoes and a rasher or two of bacon to the dish and the sausage plait goes from being a fringe player to one of the first names on the team sheet.

It is simply majestic.

Postscript.

As is this.

No word of a lie, when he wasn’t trying to emulate his cricketing heroes, Cousin Tommy spent all that summer trying to copy that goal. He even managed it once or twice.
I, unwittingly, was Michel Preud’homme. Will was Gazza. Every so often we were joined by Dan who was Steve Bull. Football was the winner, Grandma’s petunias the biggest loser.