My cousin is working temporarily in Crawley, a town which exists solely for servicing Gatwick Airport, and every day he is confronted with a new bizarre sight outside the train station. The best one this week was two dwarves slapping each other. He popped into Sainsbury’s and bought a jacket potato and pack of Garibaldis (those biscuits with raisins in which look like squashed flies) for lunch. The man at the counter asked him “Are you going to have a BBQ today then, sir” perfectly seriously. He thinks Crawley might be directed by David Lynch. I like the idea of a biscuit bbq.