Moderation row rears it's ugly head, again

[email protected];Huzzah, mortals! Otherwise popular as Psmith (the 'P' is silent as the 'z' in zbysco), I am the Associate Editor roundabouts here. Pop an icicle, lay back and settle into a cushy arm-chair or what-you-will; the cry is going around the underworld, 'Psmith is at work. All take cover.' Adept at making an instant impact, nipping in behind the defence on the right and fizzing a low cross across the face of goal and doing an immaculate Chicken Dance, yes, you read that just fine (it's not a contagious case of exploding mangoes or arrested development), I usually haunt not the Shrieking Shack but rather the consecrated grounds of Sri Venkateswara College, accompanied by one Snowy, I saunter with the singular aim to 'Stay Calm and STEVE HOLT!' Children in ages to come will cluster about their grandfather's knees, saying, ‘Tell us about the legendary Psmithy who made the heavenly bodies bow before his presence, who made the pigs wail and dogs mew and cows give cheese. The one and only who loved Manshester United and Wodehouse unconditionally.’