There has been more heated debate about the Seafront Fair with one hotelier stating some prospective guests didn't appreciate the event and had been booking into hotels elsewhere.

Frankly, if people enjoying themselves is a reason not to come to Worthing, what sort of people are we going to get visiting the town?

The Seafront Fair weekend, in whatever guise, must survive.

It is the one time of year the town truly comes to life and changes from an almost comatose tourist venue into a kicking, happening place.

On odd, joyous occasions in the past few years the atmosphere during the festivities has been more like Spain than sleepy Sussex.

All the more frustrating is that if councillors had been a bit more forward-thinking 35 years or so ago, such success wouldn't be the exception and Worthing would be well and truly on the tourist map.

I once interviewed comedian Jim Davidson during his summer season in Bournemouth.

When I told him I was from Worthing he recalled the town with affection but said the people who had been on the council in the Sixties should hang their heads in shame.

Jim obviously knew what made a successful resort and said Worthing should have got in at the beginning of the conference market by building a decent centre. Everything else would have fallen into place.

I have always wondered why a conference centre wasn't included in the Aqaurena complex. If it had been, the town would now boast a lot more decent hotels than it does at present.

It certainly highlights the state of the industry when another hotelier freely admits it is more financially viable to fill his hotel all year round with eastern European asylum-seekers, funded by the DSS, than try to attract holidaymakers.

I'll wager the old duffers at the town hall in the Sixties would never have imagined such a crisis when they were pursuing their blinkered policies.

The only consolation is that, at last, we do have some forward-thinking people in the council chamber, from both sides of the political divide.

I just hope it's not too late.

The day the clocks changed, I enjoyed a Sunday roast at my mother-in-law's, lovely weather and a stroll with the family down to the park near Lyons Farm recreation ground.

A perfect day. Kids of all ages were playing in the park, opportunistic youngsters picked daffodils for their mums and I was all set for an enjoyable kickabout with my young son and nephew.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, naively, I looked round the park in admiration at the fact that, unlike my own local rec, Tarring Park, the lush turf seemed completely free of dog mess.

Too good to be true? I'm afraid so.

Unseen when we put the jumpers down for goal posts was not so much a canine bowel movement, more a rectum symphony.

This piece of mess was so prominent, if a guide dog had done it, even its owner would have seen it.