If I was to do a straw poll of people's Sundays, there'd probably not that many who would begin their day at 6am dealing with rabid car boot nutters and end it by watching rabid ice hockeyers getting all silly over a puck at Hull Arena. That was the fate that befell me and Dee yesterday. Having to raise a crazy amount of cash for Help The Aged (I rapidly am beginning to know how the aged feel), we decided to sell our tat at silly prices on the North Cave-Gilberdyke border. And it was some kind of gold-panners, frontier town, populated by hunchbacks, the teeth-missing, the lazily-eyed and those selling the spoils of a hastily-conducted burglary. We shivered and took it all in from behind the relative safety of our trellis table. Two points become clear when you become a seller; people are exceptionally rude and people have no regard for your Clash 45s. One woman walked past the stall and shouted "shit", gesturing at Dee's toys. Another of the damned started fingering my White Riot 7inch in a brutal manner, like a monkey with shit. One man struck up a conversation, saying: "I should have stayed in bed but its a great chance to meet all my friends." We made £50, which seemed a lot at the time, but divided by two and for six hours work is positively slave-tastic. We are shelling peas for extra cash next time, although the character observations were worth their weight in gold.
Laters, and to Hull Stingrays and their grudge-match with Nottingham Panthers. It was brutal and bloody on that ice; and a fight between a panther and a ray involved much comedy puck-throwing and head-locking. Later, we sat in direct earshot of the Stingray's biggest fan, who clutched her three-year-old daughter to her chest as she screamed: "I hope you get scurvy" and "Panthers? Parasites, more like" at the opposition. Hull lost 5-0, sports fans. Would we go again? Definitely, it's like Gladiators on ice!
Finally, got home, and watched the opening ceremony of Super Bowl XLI. Knackered, we fell asleep in front of the telly before Prince, reproduced for your pleasure below. Fancy a throw-by-blow account? Click here