So I slept much better tonight, mainly I am guessing, thanks to the absence of women trying to sell me perfume in my bedroom. It was hard to get out of bed at 10.45, but my girlfriend, Andrew Collings, was coming over to do another podcast. How about that for dedication?
I was heading off to Oxfordshire in the afternoon for my writing retreat week, so this was the only time available to us. Would the jet lag and tiredness, combined with my new chillaxed persona (or the new combination of relax and chilling that I am trying to popularise, rellling) make for a good podcast?
Well some interesting stuff came up, not all of it spewing from my confused brain. I doubt any other podcast has discussed the idea of Ben Goldacre, dressed in a bird costume, attempting to fly over Belsen. But that's the kind of stuff you get with us. I decided that I'd had enough of Collings being the one who offended people all the time and wondered if I could say anything that would lead to some complaints being directed at me for once. His seemingly innocuous comments prompt flurries of internet based indignation, but I can talk about the Queen's ravaged genitals and nothing.
I said some stupid things - some of them funny, some of them not at all funny - but it makes for entertaining listening I hope. And remember I don't mean most of the things I say. And was jet lagged enough to think that "Silence of the Lambs" was called "Never Mind The Buzzcocks" which is quite impressive. It was fun to be back with Collings, shouting at him and listening to his laughable opinions, but I hope you notice that ultimately I am defending him. He's an idiot, but he's my idiot. And you're just as much of an idiot.
Anyway,
download it here and I'm sorry. But we won't edit out our stupidity (if it's only us who is going to suffer from it). For every success there must be many failures!
Then once I'd packed I was off up the M40, through the fog, to find my tiny bolthole for the next week. Not quite as warm as Grenada, but there's a log fire here and I'm sitting in front of it right now in my pants. Which is nearly the same as being on the beach, digging my feet into the sand, as the sea laps over my feet.
Nearly.
