So Long - And Thanks For All The Beer

It seems that a stray dolphin has made the terrible mistake of swimming into the harbour of my home town. The response of the locals? They've been pelting it with cans of lager - a typically warm Maryport greeting. My sympathies are all with the dolphin. I've wandered around, alone and late at night, in the Boston Combat Zone, dodgy parts of South London, Manhattan and New Orleans - and emerged unscathed. My home town is still the only place where I've had beer bottles thrown at me in broad daylight on main street. The dolphin can console itself with the thought that it's probably the most intelligent life-form within several cans' throw of Maryport Marina, but he should take the advice of another escapee: just leave.