Just when it couldn’t get any worse!

Life, don’t talk to me about life. It takes a lot to alter my pre- programmed sunny disposition and general aptitude for tom foolery.

Normally, I am the first guy with a joke and the last one to take things seriously, but fun appears to have gone on holiday.

I am fed up, exasperated and thoroughly cheesed off with this thing called life at the moment.

If I remind you of Marvin, the paranoid android, from the Hitchikers Guide To The Galaxy, I’m sorry and I don’t mean to bring you down, I want to be positive, but this austerity thing is sucking the marrow out of all of us.

Of course I understand the rationale and I know that there are people having it much worse than me, but the unrelenting bad news is exhausting. Cuts to this and cuts to that, bills that are continuously rising, whilst all the time, outside, the weather plays its part, as the winter of our discontent drags endlessly on and on, towards the inevitable summer washout.

Iconic city businesses, like Thomas Cook, shed hundreds of jobs, housing associations warn of impending rent arrears armageddon and our roads have more holes in them than a Chris Huhne defence case.

Just when you think that things cannot get much worse, a strangely, youthful looking, Bonnie Tyler, pictured right, emerges in shoulder pads from the mists of time and announces plans to sing some half- baked, tuneless twaddle and lose for Britain at Eurovision ( Lost in France? We can only hope). Oh boy, the mood I am in! As I write, I am sure Brotherhood Of Man are already dusting down their white slacks, in preparation for Eurovision 2014 in Vladivostock, or some such European (!) backwater, but keep your kisses Figaro, you might have magico, but we will never win that meaningless competition again because Europe hates us.

Never mind withdrawing from the EU, perhaps UKIP would have more luck campaigning for us to pull out of Eurovision – surely a vote winning policy.

I may sound a bit like a clinically depressed robot, having a bad meal in the restaurant at the end of the universe, but you need a brain the size of a planet to discover any sign of positivity at the moment. In fact it would be much easier to just sit in a corner of the spare bedroom and rust, but don’t forget from April 1, you will have to pay extra for that too, if you are of working age and claiming housing benefit.

So should we stick with Plan ‘ A’ or twist, in an effort to put the smile back on the face of Peterborough?

There are those that are now suggesting that we borrow and then build the nine thousand homes in the city that already have planning permission.

Perhaps we could also get that bridge over the Nene, repair our creaking roads and put a few folks back to work.

I suppose it all depends on who you trust the most.

Are you confidant that Dave knows where his towel is, or are two Eds better than one? The answer is probably 42.