* It's bad enough that Notts is intent on turning itself into a call-centre hell-hole, but this story takes the biscuit, if not the whole packet; a new scheme proposes to have people on the Broxtowe estate doing call-centre work at home. Alright, there's absolutely nowt wrong with giving single mums and people on incapacity benefit the chance to turn a pound, but damn - where the proper jobs at, Nottingham? And I dunno about you, but I work from home quite a bit, and I know only too well what I get up to. And I'm not sure I want to discuss my financial situation with someone sitting at home in their pants whilst caning a packet of Ginger Nuts with Jeremy Kyle in the background.
* More Notts-related mithering, this time from the hotel industry; Nottingham hotels suffer a 4.4% drop in profits due to our horrible image. Hm, now let's analyse that one. Why is there so much trouble in town at the weekend? Because it gets bloated with people out of town on stag and hen dos, mixing with the locals and not knowing which pubs to avoid like a bastard. And where do these people stay - under Trent Bridge? No, they go to one of the myriad of hotels that have spung up smack in the middle of town to cash in on the bar boom. Why are the rooms so cheap? Because there's too many of them. Why are there too many of them? Because there's so much trouble in town at the weekend. And round and round it goes.
* The council run a training exercise involving the Evening Post on the premise of a disaster befalling a secondary school in Bestwood. Now I dunno about you, but when I hear the words 'Bestwood' and 'disaster', I'm automatically thinking about something like this. this, or quite possibly even this. Not the Council though, oh no - their idea of a Bestwood disaster is a kid going missing on a skiing trip. Actually, the true disaster involving secondary schools in Bestwood is that there aren't any, and the kids have to go to schools in other estates.