The fimble fowl with the corkscrew leg

You see - the first time I met Paul I felt like saying, 'sorry, my good man, I already have this month's 'Big Issue''. He had the air of a twisted character from Dickens, propelled forward by some Wellsian time travel device from the foggy gas-lit streets of Whitechapel to the East Yard in 2007. Nothing has changed.

Never mind - help is at hand, because large feet are afoot. The combined show-stopping success of Paul's Public Grief Junkie bazaar and Meaningless Slogan is slowly being delivered by cesarean section to an agog public. Crowds of well-wishers leave floral gifts with tiny pink cards saying 'you are both miserable bastards' outside our several houses. All this means we are teaming up to do new stuff and opening a joint stall.

Next weekend, striding manfully to face the challenges of the coming century, resolutely and decisively gazing on combined harvesters with square jaws, we will be trading in the West Yard under a flag of convenience AS WELL as our normal Chateaux in the East Yard. So get down there and feast your consumerist lust on the tasty morsels on offer - satisfaction is a mere hors d'oeuvre on the menu.

Meanwhile, our regular visitors continue to make the sloganfuhrer smirk with indulgence. Take, for example, the combined pulchritude of Abi (left) and Laura. Could a decent slogan wish to adorn two finer specimens of British womanhood? - Naaaah!