I HAVE been teary-eyed and broody of late. The chances that I am pregnant are slim - and slim, as they say, is out of town.
I can only presume it is something to do with the Beatles. Every evening after work for the past week I have been hanging around HMV in Causeway Bay waiting expectantly for the Anthology.
If Paul McCartney shows up unexpectedly I swear I will wet my knickers. That's how excited I am that the moptops are coming as close to a reunion as you can when one of your number is dead ('no longer with us' as TVB Pearl puts it in its Beatles competition. Question: which one of the Fab Four is 'no longer with us'? Someone should give Pearl's script-writers a lesson in plain English. 'Dead' is undoubtedly the word they were looking for. Deceased, defunct, lifeless, departed, extinct, gone, inanimate, late, lifeless, passed away and perished all come a close second, but you will not find 'no longer with us' in any dictionary).
Where were we? Oh yes. John, Paul, George, Ringo and I go back a long way together. Not that I ever met them or anything.
In fact, I don't even know them. But my Merseybeat credentials are pretty good.
If my parents had not moved to Coventry in 1960, the year the fifth Beatle Stuart Sutcliffe got kicked in the head by a hooligan after a concert, I would have been born in Birkenhead, which is near Liverpool.