Silver Fox or Grandma Hopkins

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I was getting my teeth looked at and my hair cut in Hitchin, so after dropping the kids off at school I stayed in town all day and then picked them up to take them home.

I really like this town, which is lucky because I am going to be living here in three weeks time, but as much as I've enjoyed being in the countryside, it's fucking awesome to be in a place where there are shops and cafes. Next step, back to London. That place has everything.

I think Hitchin might be the Goldilocks zone though - it's got a nice vibe, unlike say Harpenden. It's a truth universally acknowledged that everyone who lives in Harpenden is a cunt. Now that's an opening line of a novel. Sorry if you live in Harpenden, but it's true. Your only hope is to move out and stop being a cunt. Of course now people like me are moving into Hitchin it won't be long before it's full of cunts too. But for the moment I'm the only one.

Hopefully moving to a town will mean some stuff actually happens to me too, which should make this blog less tedious. So we all win.

I had a bit of time before my dentist appointment so went to a cafe to write my blog and try and find a removal company. At some point during this coffee I had an idea for a game show that I don't think anyone else has done. It was such an absent minded thought that I don't even remember having it, but a few ideas for it immediately occurred to me. I then went off to get my head stuff sorted (just hair and teeth, my brain is untreatable) and the idle thought went to the back of my mind, where it might have lain forgotten.

But over lunch I remembered it and was having loads more ideas for it and so wrote up a treatment and sent it to my manager. As I waited to pick the kids up at the school he rang me to say it'd been a while since I'd submitted anything, but he thought that there might be something in it and he was sending it across to a colleague who was about to pitch ideas to TV companies.

Nothing may come of it, but that's what I love about this job. Sometimes, seemingly out of nowhere (and I have no memory of the thought process or where it came from) an idea arrives almost fully formed and although most of them will come to nothing, there's a chance that they could be life-changing. Was I inspired by the sudden overload of stimuli of being in a town rather than a village? Perhaps. Will the move mean I have new ideas like this every day? Probably not. But I am looking forward to the change and to see what happens with this new show.

Into the graveyard of Richard Herring sitcoms and TV formats? Eventually even the successful ones end up there.

I got my gums checked and my jaw x-rayed and there's nothing to be concerned about immediately, but the dentist wants to keep an eye on it and there was mention of root canal (which will not be fun) though like my new game show it's only a possibility (guess which one will actually happen - another good game show idea). He filled a small hole in another tooth and I was finished just in time to get to the hairdresser on time. And I was able to walk because towns have everything. What kind of idiot was I to live in a village?

I never really know what to do with my hair. Catie likes it long, but even she had started to hint that it was time for a cut and it does turn into a thick helmet if I leave it too long. I am not complaining. It's great that my hair isn't giving up the ghost, even if the rest of my body has more or less had enough. Is there any point in having a fine head of hair if your penis doesn't really work? I have always understood hair as a kind of advert for the genitals - which is why bald guys wear wigs. And why my preferred style of hair is large helmet.

My regular hairdresser was on holiday so I'd gone back to Toni and Guy whose already inflated prices had gone up about 50% since I was last there. But the South American man who cut my hair did a good job and it was nice to be out of the helmet. There is still a vaguely handsome man in there somewhere, so I put up a pic for the social media gerontophiles. The jealous straight men all made sarcastic comments about me looking like a grandma or Katie Hopkins and all the women and gay men were instantly turned on. A few gay women considered turning, but partly because they were confused about me looking like a grandma or Katie Hopkins.

I could still get it, though sadly wouldn't be able to do anything with it.

And no I am not wearing lipstick, my lips are naturally that luscious.

Phoebe asked me what had happened to my hair when I picked her up and kindly pointed out how white my hair was and she proved herself to be a straight man by saying I looked, not like a grandma, but like her Grandma (my mum) except her hair wasn't as white. I said that was a bit rude, but she told me she was just telling the truth. Like a Netflix comedian.

Some creative spark seems to have triggered in my brain (it may be temporary). Tonight as I tried to sleep I realised that something I said in yesterday's blog could be adapted into a promising routine and had to get my phone to make a note of it. Two ideas in one day? And one of them an actual joke. What's going on?

RHLSTP Book Club returns next week. What do you mean you don't care?

The videos are proving a bit of a time consuming thing to do and no one seems to mind if I don’t do them, so I am going to make those a little “treat” for paid subscribers, mainly to avoid annoying the rest of you with too many emails (I just did four days in one clump. It was not pretty). But here - have today’s for free. Because why shouldn’t you suffer too?