Sir_Nigel

What are the City centre ambassadors in the town centre supposed to be for? They always appear to be at a loose end. In all the time they’ve been in existence I’ve never seen them actually doing anything. Does the job description go something like: Mooch about aimlessly. Chat to your fellow ambassador. Walk about in twos for a bit. Gaze at the fountains. Eat a pasty. Wonder what to have for tea. They’re kitted out in some expensive all-weather gear and have a whizzo utility belt that looks like it could surely tackle all the crime in Gotham City but why? Do they catch shoplifters? Pick up litter? Help old ladies across the road? Rescue kittens from trees? If they’re there to help tourists wouldn’t a few signposts be cheaper? Or one of those large maps like they used to have in Pond St which said You Are Here. How it knew where you were I don’t know but surely a modern version could tell you not only where you were but also where you are going too. And where you’ve been and it would still cost less than the wages of all these so called ‘Ambassadors’. As I’ve just been lumbered with another hefty increase on my Council Tax bill I’d like to know why City centre ambassadors are considered so essential to the running of the city. And how much does it cost to keep them in Ferrero Rocher all year round?

Check out a website called Holidays Uncovered - it gives reviews (by paying punters) of every hotel and resort you could ever want to visit.

Let me share with you my experience of a trip to this part of town. This lunchtime I went to a cheapo shop down near the market. I won’t say what it was called but it seemed the ideal place for some cheap picture frames. It's a store well known for its thrifty cheapness and I think its fair to say that its range of economy products appeals mostly to certain elements of society. But I'm not proud so I went in. Inside I had to push my way through bent and cackling old hags, obese identically shell-suited families, screeching neglected infants and feral, empty-eyed, sallow-faced youths who seemed intent only on furtively pocketing even these virtually worthless products. There was more burberry on show, more leggings, baseball caps and casual sportswear in there than in an entire chain of Mr Sanjit Patel's Mega-Value Economy Clothing Warehouses - if such an outlet exists. Every council estate, every pub on every council estate, every parole office, every dole office, every betting shop, every care-in-the-community-chuck-em-in-there-cos-nobody-else-wants-the-poor-b*ggers-home in the city must have emptied its contents into that shop. I felt like I'd died and gone to Rotherham. Over by the counter a teenage Chavette, hair scraped up severely into a ponytail on top of her head, was trying to beat her crotchety baby to sleep in its pram "I've told you - effing shut up and go to sleep!" - was her sweet lullaby to the infant as she slapped its legs. Everywhere I looked, in every aisle, behind every display lurked sickly, pimply, feckless, slack-jawed, knuckle-dragging, misshapen, dull-eyed, furrow-browed, gurgling, gurning and very possibly interbred examples of humanity. All desperately trying to purchase some tacky, shoddy and inevitably unwanted gifts for their unrestrained, ever-extending families. I'm sure there were faces in there that had never seen natural daylight. I quickly chose some frames and patiently queued up behind a skanky tattooed couple who were having a full effing volume effing blinding effing row. Whilst behind me stood a guy who smelt like a neglected urinal. Then I paid my £2.97 and made my escape. Back to the world of the washed and upright and relatively normal. That'll teach me to be such a skinflint.

Have you tried Tea Chest World just off the Parkway? They have an excellent selection. Or if they’re sold out try T Chests R Us at Meadowhall. As a last resort try Barry's 'I Can't Believe Its Not a Tea Chest' Emporium up Ecclesall Rd.