I was just having my sunday teatime doze with the telly on in the background. I was half listening to this bloke with a Brummie accent extolling the virtues of the Royal Enfield bullet. On opening my eyes, Aargh!!! there he was, on the box, in my living room, clad in black leather, Mr. Keith Hart. Not content with being a famous writer, the man is now going for TV stardom.
You certainly kept that one quiet Socko.