Right then, let's nip this elephant in the bud. Look closely and there are two of them next to each other there, one of them of Ye Olde Shoppe variety.

The pork pie, of course, Mowbray's famous export but, get this, not a single slice was sampled on SlyBob's visit.

There's no particular aversion and Melton is rightly proud of their provenance. The hot water crust pastry recipe is medieval, they say, and the dense piggy interior and layer of salty gel beats  sitting in a sleazy snack bar sucking sickly sausage rolls although, they too, can be quite moreish.

No, this visit was a simple and straightforward overnighter and even Bob draws the line at pork pies for breakfast on a Sunday even if Nigel's Coffee Shop tried to unsuccessfully upsell some of Saturday's slightly stale ones.

There's a thriving, nighttime economy but not solely of the sort seen through the Half Moon's sweaty windows. Workshopping gamers, a busy nail bar and ditto mini-mart are all open later than you might expect although the bustle has subsided come sunrise.

The pedestrianised high street has been busier, probably, just not so on a Sunday morning and there's a false memory of having driven through here not so long ago.

Not the through bit, though, that much is true and definitely happened, just not along here although enough was seen to file Melton in the could-be-worth-a-night-on-the-way-back-up-north category.

Hey, who doesn't enjoy affecting an area of effect having rolled a 20-sided die and Bob's nails often need a right good buffing after a busy day bashing away at a keyboard, eh?

There's more business as usual along Sherrard Street but what's this? It's only an enticing lane of the kind typically found in, well, a medieval market town and it looks like it needs a right good looking down.

It leads to the back of St. Mary's Church where there's honestly not much interest in what goes on inside, honestly, but they can't half catch the eye from the outside. This is the largest one in Leicestershire, no less, and could qualify as a cathedral, which it isn't, but suffered from a cowboy restoration in Victorian times.

Empty pews entering the millenium weren't down to an increasingly secular society rather the danger of a falling roof, divine interception excepted, and not until 2017 was a more reliable restoration able to guarantee some safety at the sermon.

Some curious doings back in the churchyard of St. Mary's. You'll have to head inside, however, to say hello to Roger Mowbray, a descendent of de Norman interlopers who helped to name that toon.

No, alongside the traditional graves there are a couple of intriguing, interconnected blocks that look to have a bit of age to them.

Are these indeed from the time of Willie Conker or could these even be Roman or even older and Pagan, possibly?

Nah! Looks like they're just part of the elaborate guttering that was replaced in 2017, the holes are a clue. That, though, might still make them centuries old and, get this, nobody else out there in internetland seems to know, neither!

This block can lay claim to being one of the earlier almshouses in England although they're no longer home to those with not much in the way of life savings.

There were no such financial concerns over the road at the Anne of Cleves pub, not shown, originally home to the clergy of St. Mary's but confiscated by Henry VIII while he was inventing the word dissolution.

When Anne joined the formerly exclusive divorced club, the house was part of the settlement although it's not thought she ever stayed there, never mind just paying the town a visit for a pork pie.

Thomas Cromwell should have swiped left on Tudor Tinder™, the house an initial reward for his matchmaking but he'd soon go on to lose it, along with his head, when Henry's interest in the proposition dwindled.

The name may have a whiff of the Wetherspoon™s but, par for the norm, the Director of Contrived Waterhole Naming won't be getting a visit today but will be receiving a generous (4/5) for the obscure geographical reference to the Kettleby Cross, whatever and wherever that was.

No, this one is part of the regional Everard's brewery empire with a big old area out back and it's nowhere near as noisy as the Half Moon.

It's only now known that Melton is being sold as the UK's 'Rural Capital of Food'. Their pork pies and Stilton™ are famous worldwide, for sure, but the, quite frankly, Red Leicester™ is overrated despite it being a good 'griller'.

There's still some work to be done, then, because, thinking about it, the campaign hasn't even got half of a Ploughman's Lunch at the Anne of Cleves covered, eh?