It starts with a poem about a man with hooks for hands and the daily problems that brings. Then the site's first reader from Iraq turns up, and one throwaway verse becomes a running argument. Is a hook something you already have, a court's punishment or a style choice? What happens when every kid wants one? The run ends with a Celebrity MasterChef final, a plate of bobotie and a phone call with Gran that goes badly wrong. A bonus piece pitches Hooksavers to a Specsavers boss and ends up barred from every branch, Cleethorpes included. Rude and daft, start to finish.