Hi everyone, thanks for joining me again. What can I say? I hope you're well. I hope your tails are up. I hope you have some optimism and some hope in your hearts because otherwise what's the point?

But just before I launch into my monologue today, here's a quick message about how you can support the channel.

You simply go to patreon.com.

You look for me by name.

You part with a little bit of cash, about the price of a cup of coffee every month and you sign up.

You get access, privileged access in some instances, to my site, which is full of stuff.

It's been filling like a reservoir for a long time now.

There's lots of history and archaeology and esoterica and ghost stories, politics, comment.

There's a weekly question and answer video.

There's no adverts. There's nothing to break up the flow.

And the folk on there, the family, are a great bunch.

They're not all the same. There's different opinions in there, but they're a great bunch.

The links in the notes below this video, and it's on my website, which is ne nealover.com. I'd love to see you there.

Okay, let's see what's got my goat.

The game's a bogey. Do you have that expression where you are? Maybe not. I know this goes out to a wider world, but I'm Scottish. And that's what we said as kids. The game's a bogey. When for some or other reason, the game would been playing, usually outside, you know, in the street or in the park, but the game would

have been playing had been brought to an abrupt end by unforeseen circumstances and or

rank stupidity by one of the players. The game's a bogey, went to cry. That's the end of that.

Maybe it's time to call it quits and all go home anyway,

because it's almost bedtime.

Maybe someone had accidentally kicked the ball over a high wall into a garden

known to be the property of a malevolent someone.

Who would not give that ball back,

...