8405/21324 = 0.39415681860814106
Evernote, which I write my blogs on, has chosen to see the numbering of today's entry as a sum. But it does tell me that I have blogged for almost 40% of my life. Fuck me, that's depressing. I hope I've got that maths wrong.
Straight back to work today (but I am hoping to keep it pretty chill in December) with the final live RHLSTP of 2025, the rescheduled due to a TV commitment double bill of Richard Osman and Mathew Baynton.
I felt on the verge of hysteria at a couple of points, but managed to rein it in for two fun chats with two of the UK's most talented men.
Did I ask Osman about urinals? You bet your bottom dollar I did. I also pitched him some gameshow ideas that he didn't seem to think were very good.
Did I discuss scrotums with Mathew Baynton? You know I did. He might potentially be a Taskmaster Champion of Champions (we'll find out at Christmas). Given two C of Cs only have one testicle, is he prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice if he wins? It might stop the things popping out of his shorts.
Getting home is always a bit of a lottery and though I had 30 minutes to get from the venue to Finsbury Park I had a bit of bad luck. There was congestion on the steps to the Piccadilly Line and I missed a tube by about 15 seconds and had to wait 6 minutes for the next one. I basically arrived with one minute to the train I wanted and though it seemed hopeless I ran up the stairs and got to the platform one minute late.
Remarkably the train was still there and I ran to push the button to open the door, but it didn't work. I assumed I'd missed it by seconds and it was about to leave. That has to be the worst luck ever, right?
The train just sat there. I kept pressing the button but the doors were not going to open. I couldn't understand why they wouldn't let passengers board whilst this delay was occurring. The carriages were very far from full. I kept pressing and kept being denied entry. What prick was doing this? There was no staff around to ask.
The train waited for five minutes, but didn't let anyone else on. In the meantime the slow train arrived at the neighbouring platform. It would arrive in Hitchin at more or less the same time as the fast train that would arrive in 30 minutes, but surely this current fast train would let me on eventually. The slow train went and then a minutes later, the fast train departed, without opening its doors. What an utter shitshow. When you're tired and want to get home, an extra 30 minutes on a cold platform is a cruel punishment, but not as cruel as having to look at the train that would get you home before midnight right in front of you, but inaccessible.
What a load of cunts.
