I’m writing this blog on my iPhone on the tube. This it people I’m blogging on the go. I don’t think I will ever use that term again. It sounds a bit grim. ‘Didn’t have time to blog at home so had to do it on the train.’ I think it must be that no matter how far the word blog enters the English vernacular, it still sounds like taking a shit. Just a wordy, opinionated, web based shit. I feel bad ‘blogging in motion’ as all blogs of late have either been written in a rush or in a sleepy brain dead state. This means you, the reader, does not experience full blog potential. I say ‘reader’ rather than ‘readers’ as I like to picture my sole reader being an adventurous type, who perhaps relies on this blog to keep him going during his trek through the Himalayas or deepest, darkest Peru. Just when he has been bitten by a snake or missed out on grabbing the lost Idol of Makka Chakka, he can still chuckle that my cats have made me a bit annoyed. His preferred adventure name would be Randolph. Sadly though I once worked with a man called Randolph and he was the most opposite if adventurous you can be. For Randolph an adventure would be getting a new calculator or drawing a face on a post it note. If you have an exciting name you should bloody well live up to it. My name comes from a hero in the Mabinogion who killed a monster and to live up to that I have trapped at least 5 spiders in a glass in my lifetime and put them in the garden. Hero.

I’m just on my way back from some CBBC Voice Over work at Television Centre. I had to sit in a windowless room, put headphones on, and talk in a microphone to the beeb lot in Glasgow. It felt a tad strange to say the least. I was worried they were going to give me instructions to kill the PM, like in The Manchurian Candidate. On the way in security let me make my own way to the studio, assuming I knew my way. I had a BBC pass and no chaperon. It took a lot to dissuade myself from trying to get on the news. I could have pretended to be an expert on something and caused mayhem by telling everyone elephant flu was coming or that Brown is planning to sell all UK water supplies to a man called Gilbert in Madagascar. I didn’t do any of these things. Instead I sat like a lemon waiting for someone to get me. Pippa Evans walked past and we laughed about how it’s still exciting to be at the beeb as it makes you feel important. Then I sat for even longer and realised I really was not remotely important.

I should have found the bit where people worked on Psychoville and congratulate them on some seriously good comedy bleakness. I loved it. And then I got to red button the extras and watch the second episode which I loved even more. Well done Shearsmith and Pemberton for putting some actually good comedy on telly.

That’s all for today. I’m off to see my tiny Nan and cousin for the afternoon, before heading to Wokingham, which is my least favourite type of ham. I hope, Randolph that you are out there in the Himalayas thinking about your tiny Nan and cousin and wishing you were in Wokingham instead of about to be eaten by a Yeti.