A strange start to the week for all us bloggers and blogging smart arses. Something's missing, something's different. What is it ? I know what it is ...there's no Frankie. No Mr Grumpy Bollox to re-align yourself with. No apprentice Victor Meldrew of the web, masquerading as a Charlton supporter....Looking at his last blog he talks about those tapping folk in the spare room, on the train, typing away hoping someone will be arsed enough to read any of their well intentioned tosh. Well Frankie ..about 1,000 people a day could be arsed to read what you had to say, and made a point of it. C'mon back out of your shell. If it's pressure that's made you stop, you don't have to do it everyday. It could be like Alistair Cook's weekly letter from America. We just need that fix...
Shame you couldn't have been famous though like that Confidential bloke.. Since you have stopped, Confidential's traffic has gone way through the roof. He's now getting invited to First Nights and Premieres. Pestered for interviews from all the cool mags. Photo shoots for Readers Husbands, that sort of thing. All in his own living room too.
