Cumberland As You Are

Having short-cutted passed the New Cumberland Club on many furtive, fun-seeking trips from west to east Hull; I'm amazed that it was even open, let alone contained a syndicate for the National Lottery. 16 of them, for whom the Old Bull And Bush was too snazzy and the Whalebone too frothy. All with tall tales of smelt and tanning, no doubt. So unknown is this pub that even in a city renowned for its twin loves of beer and dejection, there ain't a single picture of it on Tintaweb. Well, they've won a handy £778,000, this syndicate. That'll buy no end of Nurofen, Ben Shermans and pates, judging by the pictures of them looking all gizzled and giddy in today's Dull Hairy. Well done, tho, about time Wincolmlee saw a bit of money. Pity it'll all be spent down the boozer.

Listening: There Goes My Outfit - The Dears; Imaginary Love - Rufus Wainwright

Making an enemy of: The Louth butcher. My enquiry over vegetarian sausages was met with a get-out-of-my-shop-now thunder. That'll be a no, then. He was a horrible cross of Bill The Butcher era Daniel Day Lewis and Shaznay Lewis.