We all like to get away with something

Hopefully we will make good money for the chosen cause which is blind dogs.

We are going to fit them with a satnav each so they can find their way about. I think that’s quite funny. I imagine a little doggy voice in doggy’s head barking things like, ‘Make a U turn. In two hundred yards cock a leg up.’ Of course, we all know it’s not like that, but what I did there was I used somebody else’s joke.

OK, so I added my own little bit about the satnav, but that helps me to get away with nicking the first bit.

Do you think I got away with it? But it doesn’t stop at jokes does it? We have to admit, we do like to get away with something.

We like to get one over on those who are supposed to be managing rules and regulations.

We like to cheat the system. We love it because we know the system will screw us if it can and cheating is great providing you are not turning over one of your own.

I know of a couple of people who thought it was clever to sneak in to the last Billy fundraiser without paying. We only charged six quid for a great night out for goodness sake.

They didn’t know I knew, but others who saw it weren’t too impressed and made their feelings known.

You haven’t beaten the system.

You tried to get one over on me. It is bad enough having regulation upon regulation trying to curb any attempts on raising money without the need for accomplices masquerading as friends.

Venues can have to so careful to manage proceedings and in our case, everybody mucks in to help instead of hinder any chance of success.

Artistes work cheaper because they want to help us to achieve a healthy profit and an army of people get involved in ensuring all goes well.

We have no trouble makers who necessitate the need for bouncers. We have no one who gets out of their trolley on drink, except one.

Naming no names, but here is an anagram of the only offender. Blame Stonily.

No? Try this then Mentally Bios.

OK one last go. It rhymes with Billy Nomates.

In my excuse, I haven’t been well and it affects me more.

We may be able to allow in a few last minute music lovers and philanthropists, standing room only, but it’s hard to promise.

The admission price is six quid to Ms Nomates, Ma Nomates, the Queen, the Pope and the world and his wife.

The only ones who don’t pay are the performers. Their wives and girlfriends pay. We have no groupies.

Alas, alas alas. I can hear music. Oh happy days, oh happy days. Where have all the groupies gone, long time passing. Where have all the groupies gone, long time ago. Somebody married them. I wonder if the kids can catch it? Do groupies breed groupies I wonder?

You can say what you like about them, but at least they paid to get in to venues to watch.

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