Letter from the Editor

To paraphrase my twin brother’s best-man speech at my wedding, my wife and I will have a new pea for our pod by the time this magazine is in your hands, dear reader. I’m going to be a dad. At the time of writing (D-Day minus circa four weeks), you can usually find me in one of two camps. Camp one is the excitable-but-serene camp, rearing its head occasionally at when Chard and Bromhead fall silent against a terrifying noise heading in their direction, which prompts this response from Michael Caine’s Bromhead: “Damn funny, like, like a train in the distance.”