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Whether Boris Johnson did or didn’t know about the allegations, it’s bad PMing. Either he knew and didn’t think it mattered or didn’t know, which shows he’s not really paying attention. Only way he can get out of this is to claim that he knew about the allegations, but then was banged on the head and forgot about them and he’s only just been banged on the head again this week.
Into Covid ravaged London tonight, where basically no one was wearing a mask. Including, it has to be said, me. What’s the worst that can happen?
I was doing Nick Helm’s new Film Quiz podcast, because I feel like I don’t do enough podcasts. It was a lot of fun. Nick is brilliantly chaotic and disorganised (let’s say it’s all a carefully rehearsed act, like Les Dawson fucking up the piano) and Huge Davies was an incompetent and disinterested sidekick and it was all very funny. My tired brain wasn’t running on full power, so whilst I was able to magically conjure up the name James Caan as an actor who was in the Godfather, despite thinking I had nothing, I was unable to remember what Cate Blanchett’s name was until the clock was up when it just sprung into my head. I really needed Ally with me to chip in with some answers. You’d think his old brain would be more befuddled than mine, but I guess he sleeps for 167 hours a week.
I am getting old and I don’t really like it, but then again I am keen to avoid the alternative for a little while. I caught my reflection in the window of the train this evening, with my reading glasses perched on the end of my nose and I saw this old man, or possibly old woman staring back at me. I am 8 days from 55. 5 years and 8 days from Oh Shit I’m 60. Though if I survive that long I might have a more celebratory title. After the last year I will be very happy to make it. Thank Scrotum I’m 60 (or No Thanks Scrotum).
It’s a tough hurdle to overcome that you’re passing out of the middle-aged category all together. I maybe have five more years, or ten if I am pushing it. And then I am old as that reflection.
The young comics at the Quiz Night affected surprise when I told them I was going to Arran on holiday and the last time I’d been was about 50 years ago (maybe more like 45, but still). And even I think it’s weird that I have memories that are half a century old. There’s a tiny bit of life in the fucked up dog yet, but it still hurts and I am not surprised that many men my age start losing their mind as they fight against their inevitable decline and lack of power.
Fifty fucking five. For Fuck’s Sake.
Retro RHLSTP with Romesh Ranganathan went up today. And because Chris Evans (not that one) is a fucking idiot/marketing genius, we also accidentally/on purpose put up this month’s bonus Plusser Plus Plus podcast on the regular feed. So why not
listen here and then decide if you want to join
the Acast Plus sub service to get more of this stuff, plus videos, backstage interviews and ad free feed.
