Right royal nonsense I'd much rather avoid

BRACE yourselves, lads! And get ready for a week of non-stop, head-melting auld guff about King Charles and his fancy coronation, 24/7 for the rest of the week.

Unless you can book into one of those beehive huts on Skellig Michael, or maybe get trapped down a well, there will be no avoiding it.

It kinda reminds me of when my late dad decided we were going to escape the Charles and Di wedding hoopla back in the summer of 1981 and forked out for a family holiday in the Med.

It would have been a brilliant plan – if it wasn’t for the fact that our destination, Malta, was Royal and British Empire-mad and we couldn’t move for Union Jacks and God Save the Queens for two whole weeks.

We might as well have gone on holiday to Buckingham Palace.

So we’ll just have to grin and bear it, or better still, try and ignore it.