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I was sitting next to a businessman at the airport as we waited for out flight home. He was on the phone, but I wasn't listening in. He was having a serious business conversation and there's nothing more boring than that. But then I heard him say, earnestly "I'll just add in that I've sent them three bags of corn flakes and they can do what they want with it."
Sometimes you realise that being a comedian isn't the stupidest job you can do. At least we know we're trying to be ridiculous. Imagine saying a sentence like that without even a smile.
There's a chance that "corn flakes" is code for something and it does seem odd to be sending it in bags rather than boxes, but I think it was genuine.
Who is the real sick man in this so-called society, the normal, nice man who travels the country talking to strangers about his diseased testicle or is it the businessman in his suit and tie, sending out free bags of corn flakes and not caring what people do with them?"
He wasn't even wearing a suit and tie, just a sweatshirt. And when he stood up he didn't even have the back of his trousers cut out, revealing women's underwear.
You may have had to watch my work in the 90s to understand what's been going on in the ;ast couple of paragraphs.
As funny as it was to be stopped by airport security because of my false hand and puppet testicle, I was actually more surprised today when my bag went through the machine and was returned to me, without comment. Didn't you see the human hand, guys? I guess it's worth the gamble if you're an international Frankingstein after all.
The airport and flight experiences have been incredibly smooth on this trip. They've been a nightmare on previous trips, but this time I wasn't on Easyjet or flying from Luton. Today Bollings and me even got a spare seat between us. I was by the window and looked down at the clouds and the land beneath, trying and failing to work out where we might be based on the buildings. As a younger man I'd look at the clouds with wonder and awe and as jaded as I am I got a little echo of that today. Most of humanity never saw the world from this perspective. I was listening to the audiobook of Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars and wondered what he'd think if someone told him that in centuries time people wouldn't only still be reading his book, but some people would be flying above the clouds, listening to it being read on a device that could call up any piece of information in the world (if it wasn't in flight safe mode). Maybe in 2000 years time, people on Saturn will be able to access a holographic sex robot of me that will telepathically transmit "Can I Have My Ball Back?" into their brain whilst they are bumming me in a flying saucer.
Instagram seems intent on showing me videos of plane crashes when it's not showing me videos of young women jiggling their breasts around (I don't know why I am getting this stuff, so watch everything they send me to see if I can pick up any clues). Having seen reconstructions of pilots making dumb mistakes or planes falling apart due to maintenance issues does make flying slightly more nervy, but I know in my heart that this is a safe way to travel.
Looking out at the wing I saw a few spots where the paint had flaked off and as we came into land there was a bit of bumpy turbulence but we got down to the ground without exploding. Also no one danced around without a bra on. I am starting to think that Instagram may not represent reality. But will keep checking.
Got home just before the kids got back from school. They both seemed pleased to see me and even Phoebe gave me a little hug. Ernie told me that I wasn't allowed to go away again without his permission, so I guess I will have to pull the remaining tour dates.
One of the best book clubs so far, I think, with the always hilarious Mark Steel.
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Into London for lunch and we had some time to kill so we took the kids to see Buckingham Palace. Sometimes things in London are further apart in your mind than in reality and I was surprised to find out how close the Palace was to Green Park tube station, which feels like it's in a totally different part of town.
I tried to tell the kids the story of how I got lost in Buckingham Palace which I have bored you with enough I am sure, though I am still annoyed that I don't get all the buzz that Michael Fagan managed, even though I got away undetected. And I didn't wank in the Queen's ear, like Kevin Adams from Fairlands MIddle School Cheddar said Fagan did. Though if you've listened to my recent chat with Craig Brown you'll know that he hadn't heard that story. But why would someone make something like that up?
We also told Phoebe that we'd been to dinner here exactly one month after she was born (almost exactly ten years ago to the day), so this time I got to go into that same courtyard, but with an invitation (although one we didn't deserve as I'd done nothing for the charity involved) and an equally bemused Greg Davies (who also had no connection to the charity).
According to @JarofSnokes on Twitter I've also been in to be decorated by the King for all the work I do for charity. If not eating Soleros can be classified as work.
We joined the other tourists looking through the gates that had once welcomed me, but now remained closed and watch the guards in bearskin hats standing to attention, and a couple of armed policemen chatting in a doorway and a janitor with a broom sweeping the path. He left his hoodie scrunched up on a window ledge while he did it which didn't feel like it followed protocol. I told the kids I thought he might be a clever assassin trying to sneak into the building and he was going to attack the guards with his broom. But as we've already seen, the guards just let you through, even if you're walking along nervously and carrying something that looks as much like a bomb as possible, without it having a fuse coming out the top and BOMB written on it.
It's weird that so many people were gathered to look at nothing really happening. So when one of the guards suddenly took it upon himself to start marching up and down in front of his bit of the Palace it was a real piece of theatre.
I wondered with Ernie what would happen if I tried to scale the fence and run towards the Palace. At what point would I be shot? Or would they just tackle me to the ground? Or maybe I could get through for an ear wank - though I don't want to do that with the current so-called Queen. I'm not sick. Though I guess if you like wanking in ears that the King would be your ultimate fantasy. Watching the sperm cascade round those huge pinnas would be like a spunk-based game of Marble Run.
Please feel free to quote that sentence and put it on notes on Substack! I bet I am the first person to ever write that sentence. Even if the Universe is infinite.
It's weird to think there's this huge house in the middle of London, owned by one family and it's weird to think of all the people they employ to keep it running and safe. And it's weird to think that we pay for that. And yet if you climb the fence and run for the courtyard with a suitcase full of ear pornography, they will shoot you.
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I am a fan of Sunday Brunch.
Not watching it obviously, but being on it. And if you needed any proof, today was my 10th appearance on on the show which means my name goes up on a special engraved shield and I get a gold mug.
It's a lot of fun to do, plus you get food cooked for you by top chefs (and Simon Rimmer) and as I pointed out in this Metro article (second time in two days I've referred back to that golden time) the comedy in it is (possibly) high surrealist art.
The real question is, how did I manage to get several jokes about rimming into a family newspaper?
It's proper TV, live, for the immediate audience, not for the ages. The fact that it's there, you enjoy it and then it's gone is highlighted by the fact that when Tim asked me which guest I had been most excited to be on with in my ten appearances, I couldn't remember anyone at all. Though luckily I was genuinely thrilled to be on the same show as Jemima Rooper, who I think is a fab actor and who I had a bit of a thing for when she was in As If. She was by far the best character and if I was in Mcfly I'd have written a song about her, not about the one with five colours in her hair. Idiots.
It was probably the coolest panel I've been on (I guess, as I don't remember any of the others) with the band Divorce, the super cool actor Ivanno Jeremiah (my favourite bit was Tim Lovejoy asking him off camera halfway through the show how to pronounce Ivanno, apologising for getting it wrong at the beginning, getting the correct version and then continuing to pronounce it wrong for the rest of the show - I sympathise, it's something I do all the time on RHLSTP, but Ivanno and I shared an amused look when it happened!) Jemima and JB Gill from off of JLS, who had been on House of Games with me back in the day - can't remember who won. That kind of thing is not important to me.
Today was the first TV show I've done since 2023 (and the last one was probably Sunday Brunch as well). You play Sunday Brunch ten times in your career, five times on the way up and five times on the way down.
I had a lot of fun, lightly mocking the show and the hosts (who know that I hold them in high esteem in reality) and trying to big up Cheddar Gorge, whilst admitting that Wookey Hole is better. And I managed to fool Simon Rimmer into thinking I'd once worked as a gardener. So I expect Would I Lie To You? will soon be on the phone. Finally.
In the old days I would have managed to get a bit drunk (perhaps why I don't remember much about the line-ups) but I sat the cider item out and kept a clear head.
I forgot to take my gold cup home. I'll pick one up next time I'm on. When you've done 20 shows you get a hologram of Tim and Simon that makes them look like they've been imprisoned in a prism (imprismed) and will be shot off into space like the villains off of Superman.
I've done this 10 times. Imagine how many times Simon and Tim have done it. And they remain relatively sane.
Good to talk about my bollocks on Sunday morning TV again, though I never know if this kind of stuff shifts any tickets. And I have tickets to shift, especially in London at the weekend. So do come along if you can. And if you've already seen it and liked it, then spread the word!
Sorry if you (very likely) already thought of this but it just occurred to me while listening to RHLSTP last night that “one-ball” is a very near homophone of “Womble”.
Could be an excuse to work the song in your show or pitch a comic documentary series where you try to achieve a professional mastery of tennis?
Loved the TMWRNJ reference :)