His travels take him through Lancashire towns (Mills and Bhuna!); to seedy Blackpool, "that great lurid behemoth of tat"; to Bury where they can't screen for colon cancer because the locals eat so much blood-laden black pudding that they show up thousands of false positives; to Liverpool whose "Beatles heritage industry.. is as sentimental and savvy as only Liverpool can be". What's lovely is that Maconie writes not like a Boris Johnson who comes from outside to mock, but writes as a local who both adores his home and finds it funny. And his book takes him on through the North-East, through cities, across mountains and moors. Hugely enjoyable light reading - this is a bog book!
Then on Sunday, I was approached by a grinning Everton fan, and so was immediately suspicious. His opening words were, "I've been reading your blog". Many an inauspicious conversation has commenced thus! So my heart sank, and I begun to mentally recall everything posted over the last few months - trying to work out who I might have offended this time! However - as I wound down the car window to speak to him, he handed me this:
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