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Ewe turns blocked.

Byline: MR BROCKLEBANK

AHANSOM cab driver writes: "Will Mr Brocklebank have to leave his velocipede at home and alight from his brougham in Prescot High Street during the Promenade Theatre Show?" Michael Elliott Esq, cabbie of this parish, also enquires in his missive: "Even worse, Freeman of the Borough Steven Gerrard will not be able to drive his sheep along Eccleston Street."

Doubtless with other anxieties safely behind him, the sheep drovers' road through Prescot is exercising young Gerrard's mind.

Perusing the public notices in this very Daily Post paper, Mr B notes that, indeed, under the borough council town police clauses act 1847 (clause 1), due to likely "thronged" and "obstructed" streets, that Prescot is being closed to vehicular traffic (including pedal cycles), horses and other animals and horsedrawn vehicles. So, if you espy the lovely Alex Gerrard, sitting on her 4x4 tumbrel, in her Cavalli shepherdess's smock, a-weeping and a-wailing, as her sheep wags a tail in distress, remember life is not a parade for everyone.

THERE is evidence that one odd legacy of Liverpool's Capital of Culture is its impact on speech, according to multi-lingual Beatles guide David Bamber (apparently the city's only bona fide fluent French Fab Four fellah). While guiding some ex-colonial cousins, "Monsieur" Bamber was told by one of these US visitors that she was on a Beatles study programme. Asking if her parents were Beatles fans, she told our man: "No, they do not have much cultural capital."

MR BROCKLEBANK was tempted to taste a beetroot cake at Liverpool University Victoria Gallery & Museum's Waterhouse Cafe. Having wooed the Chinese, are the varsity czars now flirting with the Russians to create a partnership with Nogudchavintrackipantski University's Lada Institute of Astrophysics and Ladies' Advanced Cabbage Rotavation? MERSEYSIDE Maritime Museum's new top-floor Maritime Dining Rooms brings superb cuisine to Albert Dock - but what a shame the stunning view of the Three Graces is being obliterated.

ALTHOUGH he muddied his knees in the pursuit of the oval ball - much to the delight of the young debutantes of the Liverpool season, Mr Brocklebank was a dab hand at the various table-top miniature football games once so popular. He was deft as a right-winger, propelled along a plastic pitch by a magnet manipulated under his person.

Thus his eyes clouded with nostalgia on reading that his favourite team from by-gone days was up for sale on this new-fangled eBay thingy. But before you could say Subbuteo, those same eyes were filled with dismay that the team on offer turned out to be Tranmere Rovers - which inhabits the real world.
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Publication:Daily Post (Liverpool, England)
Date:Aug 11, 2009
Words:430
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