Whenever the newsreader says “and now for the news where you are” I turn to the missus, pretend to hold a microphone and say “I’m having a cup of tea and the dog’s been dewormed”. Oh how I laugh. The wife? Not so much.

That’s the trouble with local news on the box. It’s rarely local. There’s usually the serious story about a stabbing on a council estate 50 miles away, a daft bloke complaining about his bus route being scrapped and a dog that plays Scrabble.

Most agencies don’t bother supplying the BBC with local stuff. There’s no money in it. No one has a budget but then they never have. Even when there was cash floating about for news, the BBC rarely seemed to let its local networks spend it on the likes of us.