Hmmm... looks like the quick-fix marketing men have gatecrashed the party again. Sorry, where was I?

Oh yeah, somewhere in Sheffield.

It's hard not to feel sorry for Milburn: if the legend is correct, they actually inspired that other lot from High Green into writing songs and taking themselves seriously. But just like with the egg and the chicken, one grows wings and legs before shooting off into the sunset, whereas the other gets boiled, dropped, and opened by young children once a year.

Where does that leave Milburn? Counting down the days - all 278 of them - until Friday becomes Good again and someone rescues them from the shelf of obscurity.

The song? Yeah, it's okay, and if you've a half-decent broadband connection you'll have no doubt heard it at least a year ago. At the same time, though, it's hardly worth crossing the road for. Even if you're a chicken.