My old friend Dave Southwell (lost touch, sorry) at Eagle Star told the tale of an unfortunate gentleman in the Birmingham telephone directory in the 1970s called Mr Stillup. Apparently the post-pub game for fun-loving 17 year olds was to call his number and say 'Stillup?'
When he said 'Yes' they would tell him he'd better go to bed then and hang up. How he must have laughed.
But Mrs T is away at an exhibition until Monday and I change from lark to owl when that happens. So I am still up. I tried to persuade Big Blogger (older readers will explain) to drop by for a chat but he quietly suggested that exposing my psyche to the parish would not be a wise move right now. When I asked why he just mumbled 'You know' and wandered off. Yeah, I know.