Following a night out with his mates, a man who fell into a pothole in Gorton, Manchester was rescued by a passing stranger.

The damsel who came to his distress held onto his hands all night in that horrendous Northern drizzle currently plaguing Siberia.

Chanelle didn’t even have her big coat on when she informed me “I didn’t hesitate. I just knew I had to save him from drowning. He was up to his eyeballs in filthy water down there. It was like that time Dawn French splashed into a puddle on telly, except he was really pissing himself.”

Apparently he couldn’t find his Zippo and his Amber Leaf and Rizlas were soaked. The victim who prefers to be known as “Smokey Joe” for legal reasons, said that it was a tragic loss and he was glad to get  out for a fag. He also added that the Council never drove round there in their posh cars and don’t know how dangerous the potholes are.  “You could lose all your weed down there and they’d not give a damn. I’m just glad my last fiver is feckin plastic or I’d be down the food bank tomorrow again.”

Having driven around the many potholes on Garratt Way, swerving all over the road and been arrested on suspicion of drunken driving, I can attest to the fact that Manchester Council needs to get the road resurfacing team out there before more of us innocent drivers get wrongly breathalysed by police, made to try and walk a straight line and prevented from being able to interview and photograph the 8 rescued pothollers who came out of one near Tesco having tunnelled from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch in Wales.  Try saying that when you’re pissed. Or even sober for that matter!

Something urgenly needs to be done about the potholes around here.

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Quentin D Fortesqueue is a founding editor of The Rochdale Herald. Part time amateur narcissist and full time satirist Quentin is never happier than when playing his lute and drinking a full bodied Bordeaux. He rarely plays the lute and never gets to drink Bordeaux.