Undoubtedly the most bizarre story I read in 2011 concerned a 33-year-old Congleton man who threw a petrol bomb at his local club then rode away on his bike with his shirt ablaze.

Exactly how he intended to avoid detection is a mystery known only to him. The constabulary were unlikely to ignore a cycling inferno traversing the streets of Congleton at 4.30am.

Thankfully there were no casualties and despite his defence barrister’s plea that he had ‘behaved like an idiot’ (a masterpiece of understatement) he went down for 30 months.

Now, I don’t know this so it’s purely speculation, but I’m betting there’s a Macclesfield connection here.

We are the town renowned for criminals who steal lead then dive into the canal to avoid capture, who raid fishmongers then leave a trail of trout leading to their home, so you can see where I’m coming from.

While we’re on the subject of bizarre stories who would have thought the Krankies were swingers with an ‘anytime, anywhere’ attitude to sex?

Look, this is a family newspaper so let’s not go into detail but can you imagine?

If there’s anything guaranteed to keep me on the straight and narrow it’s the thought of hanky-panky with little Jimmy Krankie.

I’d risk Fiona Bruce (the newsreader not the Congleton MP) or Joanna Lumley (to be honest I could even tolerate Dame Edna) but Jimmy Krankie would definitely be a step too far.

I’ve done some stupid things in my time but I do have limits.

There is nothing on earth that would persuade me that swinging with the Krankies was ‘fan-dabi-dozi’.