Birmingham Post

It wasn't the greatest lyric Freddie Mercury ever sang, certainly not a patch on "Fat bottomed girls you make the rocking world go round."
And yet the line "Who wants to live forever?" is pertinent in light of the latest bulletin from the Office for National Statistics.

Moseley director of rugby John Beale is officially a liar and a cheat.
Of course some of his players may jest they knew this all along, but that would be unfair. The man is to be congratulated.

Good to see David Cameron making clear his support for directly elected mayors pretty much at the start of his "unscripted" speech at the Conservative conference.
Dave's wake-up call to local councils prompted spontaneous applause from the floor, but try as I might I couldn't see the television cameras pick up the Tory leader of Birmingham City Council, Mike Whitby, whose over-my-dead-body opposition to elected mayors is well known.

You wait for years to write a column featuring Freddie Mercury, and then two come along at once.
Last week, I referred to Mr Bulsara in a meditation on old age, which was in turn inspired by the lyrics to the Queen song Who Wants To Live Forever?
And whaddayouknow? This week, the singer and his old band have slam-dunked their way into the Number 1 spot in a list of the best music videos of all time, for Bohemian Rhapsody.

As promised here is the "Hotel du Van" tour of France in which the males of Birmingham's Jowett family experience the rugby World Cup.
As you have probably worked out, they were going round in a van. And as Moseley supporters, James (he's the near pensioner father) and sons Ben (plays for Selly Oak) and Spencer, are not quite used to such high powered international offerings. Here are some abridged highlights.

Iron Angle had intended this week to convey the thoughts and policy priorities of Kings Heath florist Neville Summerfield, who to the surprise of everyone, not least to Nev himself one suspects, was appointed Birmingham cabinet member for regeneration last week.

I am having sleepless nights about Jonny Wilkinson's balls. Am I normal?
This has never happened to me before, and I am pretty sure I am not alone. I have always been a fan of the round ball favoured by footballers, seduced by the hyperbole of the beautiful game.

My spies at the recent opening of the Town Hall have been moaning to me about the usual Birmingham City Council own goal.

A busy week for members of Birmingham's Licensing Committee.
Not only did they refuse to allow the advertising of whips and skimpy knickers on the side of a city taxi, they also banned the use of four-poster beds in Brum brothels.

It is hard to understand why so many people are angered at the BBC's decision to cut its cloth by showing more repeats.
The Beeb has a budget deficit of £2 billion, which is a little more than Lord Ashcroft pumps into Tory constituency parties, and a little less than the escalating costs of the London Olympics.

The most dreaded letter of the year has arrived!
No, not an invitation to join Alcoholics Anonymous or even a demand from the Inland Revenue.
But what could possibly be worse?

The Birmingham Library and Repertory Theatre amalgamation – a snip at £193 million and coming to a site near you, soon – remains the only game in town as far as the city council is concerned.

Tender hunks of ocean-reared whalemeat, lovingly boiled with nutty turnips; aromatic Bovril drizzled on an artisan tin loaf, finished with noisettes of dripping; the stewed stomach-lining of a freshly-slaughtered roadside goat dressed with hand-plucked nettles.