WHEN on Saturday I heard that my auntie had two spare tickets for Peter Kay that night, I had but one question, writes Emmet McElhatton. “They going free?” They weren’t, but I got a good deal. See, she’s the best in the world, so I was able to exploit her renowned good nature to arrive at a price somewhere between a bargain and a mugging. And a few hours later, Niamh and I were off to see Big Pete. But first we needed fed. “Sushi?” I suggested. …
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