By now even I have discovered that I love a bloody good bitch. And so far this year there has been plenty to bitch about. There's the cost of things, the price, the tax. The tax on tax. The tax on things that are already taxed and then the rising cost of taxation. But that's boring. There is, of course, the summer! That does indeed deserve a mark of exclamation when many written sentences do not.....

The weather this summer. Has it been here? The summer I mean. Did the sun consider a visit to the northern hemisphere, decide the country's taxation was too high and bypass Blighty for more reliable Turkey?

Well I could say I mustn't grumble but frankly I must...........until I read about the Fuel Phantom. Now if there was one reason for sticking around in a bog-clogged, damp-dour, island that likes to ban everything, the Fuel Phantom is it. Apparently, somewhere, out there is a man in a superhero suit, nudging a nozzle into your tank. You just stand back and think of (idiosyncratic) England whilst Fuel Phantom fills you up!

Fuel Phantom has been sighted at various filling stations across the country. He fills, he pays, and goes-aways. Just don't reach for the after-action, satisfaction fag once full!