It's that time of year again when those middle classes who aren't fans of football or tennis pack their VW Golfs and head for Glastonbury, where they can indulge their alternative fantasies with other mildly stoned estate agents and graphic designers.
I've only ever been there on official business with a film crew, and, having heard tales of overflowing pit toilets, managed to keep my bladder and bowels in check for the entire day on each occasion. One year my veteran cameraman couldn't keep it in any longer, and returned white as a ghost. 'Worse than Bosnia,' was his verdict.
Still, here in Ramsgate we seem to be putting on an alternative shit show courtesy of Southern Water, who recently took several years to mend our bursting sewer down in the port. Now the Inner Marina is swimming with the brown stuff. It started with The Great Stink on Sunday morning, and our local biblio-bloke and environmental campaigner Michael Child has finally tracked it down to crumbling Victorian sewers.
Maybe this could be seen as a positive step. After all, thousands of people flock to Glastonbury to get covered in poo each year. And now we have the chance to make our lovely, heritage Victorian seaside town even more authentic by introducing lovely, heritage Victorian diseases like typhoid and cholera! Hurrah!