8036/20977
The Shyness Box is a big hit with the many socially awkward people who have seen it and wished they had had the idea. Bruce Dessau pointed out that Ernie had already influenced Jim Moir (the artist formerly known as Vic Reeves) but to add some perspective to the genius that is Ernest Herring, I thought I should share the Christmas list that he has drawn for Santa, which seems to mainly consist of guns. So now we know why he needs that box, to store all his weapons. And he wants scissors too, presumably for hand to hand conflict. He always managed to instantly find the most dangerous thing in any place he was, so it makes sense that he only wants stuff that could cause harm to himself and others. The Inspirational Books seem a little out of place on this list, unless they are books which will inspire him to kill. He also seems to want some Mr Beast stuff and a money printing machine, which he will need if he gets into eating Feastibles regularly. Presumably Santa has the skills to make a money printing machine.
I have to tell you he is the sweetest and most affectionate of boys, so this list seems at kilter with his personality to some extent. But I was also obsessed with guns and fighting at the age, loving fake weapons, Action Men and little plastic soldiers. I seem to remember my parents expressing concern about it even then, but they had nothing to worry about. As an adult I've hardly murdered anyone and only taken part in the average amount of wars for a man of my age.
And it's easy to miss, but Ernie also wants Post-it notes, suggesting that he has inherited my obsession with stationery. Anyway it's an eclectic list, if a little dominated by firearms. Hopefully Santa can manage all of those, though I wonder if he has a policy on giving guns to 7 year olds.
As I said, Ernie is still (fortunately) fair game for the blog.
I had a terrific afternoon recording a podcast for Cancer Research UK with fellow cancer survivors Matt Forde and Mark Steel (and Dr Sam Godfrey joined us later). Both these fine comedians went through much more traumatic and painful experiences than me, but what was apparent from our chat was how similar our thought processes were both to cope with the experience and the effect its had on our subsequent lives. All of us agreed that overall it had been a very positive thing to happen, allowing us to understand our mortality and enjoy our subsequent lives all the more - not so much the big things, but just going to football or having a bath or cuddling a child or grandchild.
As always I felt a fraud next to these people who had proper cancer, rather than the playtime version that I'd supposedly had (still can't quite believe I've had cancer at all), but we were all very funny about it and it was also rather moving I thought. There are some bad apples that spoil our otherwise spotless reputation, but I really love comedians: the way they think, the way they cope with life and the way that you can sit us down together and we just understand and recognise each other (like dogs).
I was desperate for a wee for most of it, but after Matt explained the repercussions of his cancer on his own urination process I didn't think I could make a fuss. I went to the loo after, having said I was going to have to dash as I had to be home to look after the kids by 6pm. As I tried to leave the toilet though I realised the lock was stuck. I couldn't turn it however hard I tried and the toilet was a little bit away from where everyone else was congregating. I didn't have anyone's mobile number to hand and had visions of myself being stuck in the loo at Acast for the entire night, having to eat toilet paper and drink from the toilet bowl to survive (there was a sink, but I didn't think of that). Luckily Matt was milking himself in the next toilet along and heard me banging so that worry was quickly dispelled, but I did get weirdly claustrophobic at the prospect of being imprisoned in a small toilet. There was another door with a key in it, but it led to a supply closet, so at least there was plenty of toilet paper to get me through the night.
On about the 40th time of trying the lock finally moved and I was freed. But wow what a scary two minutes that was!
