There is rather a backlog of POTD nominations in my in-tray, so I will endeavour to give you one (oo-er) every couple of days until Christmas. Well, it's an excuse not to have to teeter on a swivel chair as I attempt to pin tinsel to the library ceiling.
If it's wrong to stand in front of the immensely powerful hand driers in the toilets that make the flesh on your hands ripple, pretending to be a melting Nazi from Raiders of the Lost Ark, then I don't want to be right.
