Tom Bromley

A tale of two tweets, this week. The first is from Salisbury MP John Glen, writing in glowing terms about how well the country is doing. ‘Businesses are the backbone of our economy,’ he writes, ‘in challenging times they’ve shown enormous resilience and creativity, like so many of those I’ve visited in Salisbury. Great news that the highest number of businesses were incorporated in Q1 this year since records began.’

In the spirit of the classic sixties slogan, Make Love Not War, let’s turn our attention briefly away from ever increasing global conflict and focus instead on more amorous matters closer to home.

Among the claim and counterclaim in the campaigns for next month’s local elections, I was particularly struck by one social media post from the Conservatives.

AND so to politics and the forthcoming general election (for those rolling their eyes, may I quickly wish you a Happy Easter before you turn the page?)

The 1970 World Cup in Mexico is often seen as the greatest tournament in football history. It was the tournament when Pelé won the trophy for a record third time, when Gordon Banks made the save of the century, and when Brazil routed Italy 4-1 in a final for the ages.

Last weekend I went up to London to watch jazz funk band the Brand New Heavies perform alongside the London Concert Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall.

Let’s begin this week with some Read the Room news, and the revelation that former Science Minister George Freeman was forced to quit Rishi Sunak’s government last November for financial reasons.

And so to nominative determinism news and the curious case that made its way to court last week between crisp manufacturer Walkers and the taxman.

On Monday morning, I popped into my nearest supermarket to buy some fruit, picking up an apple to chop up for breakfast. But when I got the counter, there was a problem. The cashier tapped away on his screen before shaking his head and saying, ‘I can’t sell you that.’‘Why not?’ I asked.

And so to my annual Dry January column, for which the weather has kindly delivered sufficient rain to include my usual joke about the name's irony, given the amount of flooding sloshing about (do old jokes get better with age, like the wine I'm currently not allowed to drink?)