A wave of nausea flows over me when I see that my big mate has made it into the Guardian ahead of me, on account of his maritime Bestival fancy dress.
Why? The original little beggar conceived and executed the finest costume there at this wicked festy on my old manor the Isle of Wight.
He chose to make and wear a full ‘wave’ costume (we pair struggled down from Plymouth with it taking up two train seats).
Now the Guardian’s Arts Blog has referenced his smiling azure face.
Meanwhile, my face is just green. I’m just a washed up old hackette, obviously…