Eddie Iz Running...

And there he was, gone. A sweaty goatybeardified blur past our front gate in Gresford, on his way from Wrexham in Wales, over the border into Chester and up into Liverpool as part of his blister-inducing, nipple-rubbing marathon-a-day jog around Britain - a 1000-mile run for charity.

We missed him jogging past our gaff partly because Lady Sp33d was on the phone natterating to her big sis about nowt in particular (proper good chin waggy stuff that couldn't've been interupted for anything), but a short hopskippyjump down the road and there he was, running his heart out holding a welsh flag down the village hill. I was surprised at how much I didn't recognise him seeing as I've laughed my head off watching him umpteen times, but then I guess people look different when under spotlight and in drag. I did managed to chat to him a little bit in a slightly awe-inspired nobby way, me cuffufling my words and not making much eye contact and him announcing that he was desparate for a piddle and needed to use the ablutions of the nearby Trevor Arms pubby restaurant place "somewhat on the quickish side" otherwise his overly-carbohydrated isotonic-infused wee would start to trickle down his leg.

The chap peddling the camera-crew bicycle wished us and our 2-weeks-to-go bump all the best, which was nice - AND we may be on telly next march too GET IN (although I doubt it).

BIGGER