Saturday, 20 March 2010

At least his was wireless.

Last year, I wrote a sketch about a brilliant Renaissance inventor whose curse was that he was so far ahead of his time he invented the computer mouse before anyone had invented the computer.

Today, I came across this picture in the catalogue of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

It was made by the ancient Egyptians. Poor old Barbieri - five hundred years ahead of his time; three thousand years behind it.

Thursday, 18 March 2010

When I am dead and opened, you will find Penelope Keith written on my heart.

A couple of good new graffiti seen this week. Intriguing, rather than funny. One, in a pub near Oxford Circus:

'I am a Turkish Man.'

Now, obviously I realise that there's an unsavoury explanation for why someone might write that in a pub loo - but this was the whole message. No phone number, no date or time. Which is what makes me hope this wasn't an advertisement, it was simply an act of self-expression. Maybe even self-affirmation. 'Whatever else they say, Hasim, they can't take away who you are. Yeah, write it on the wall. Write it big, write it proud. Let the whole world know. I... am a Turkish Man.'

The other, in a pub near Old Street. (No, I'm not always in the pub. Yes, I am sometimes in the pub.)

'Routledge till I die.'

Well, this one isn't really intriguing any more, because spoilsport Google informs me that the author was probably swearing a solemn oath of eternal allegiance to Wayne...

... and not, as I originally assumed, Patricia.

Saturday, 13 March 2010

Me not on The Now Show

...Not on the Saturday repeat, anyway, because the BBC accidentally played last week's instead. Sigh.

Instead, it's here:

Friday, 12 March 2010

Me on The Now Show

This week, I have mainly been being a guest.

Today, I am the guest on this week's Now Show, on BBC Radio 4, talking about what happened when I woofed in a scottie dog's face; the role of the turquoise bowler hat in the sport of kitten-stamping; and somehow getting from there to a genuine attempt to persuade you to go on holiday to Barcelona rather than Madrid. For this, plus great stuff from all the regulars, including a show-stopping Chuckle Brothers gag - and how often can you say that? - listen at 6:30 today; 12:30 on Saturday, or for the next week on the iPlayer.

And earlier in the week, I was the guest of the fine people (and staunch Now Show fans) at Rum Doings who were kind enough to supply me with orange-flavoured rhum, and allow me to bang on about sitcoms for the best part of an hour. For that, go here.

Monday, 8 March 2010

Well? What then?

Well, I can definitely see how that would be awkward. For both of us, probably. But I'm not sure I'd find it the insoluble dilemma this strapline writer seems to think I would. 'Oh' I'd probably think to myself 'It's that betraying guy. Well, this is very bad luck. I certainly hope I can rely on him to save me this time, and not betray me. Although of course experience tells me I can't.'

 And yes, I'd probably try and peek behind him to make sure there definitely wasn't another man who could save me, possibly obscured by the betraying man, or maybe just coming round the corner.  But the point is, if there wasn't, I imagine I'd try and make the best of it. I mean, if he absolutely is the only man who can save me, then, well, I'll probably let him save me.  It might even go some way to making up for the betrayal incident. 

I assume that for some reason it does have to be a man who saves me, by the way; because personally I have no silly macho prejudice against being saved by a woman, or indeed by either of those two running children and/or their charming dog. But assuming it does, then, yes, I'll take the saving, please.  In fact, I  think the only real dilemma is whether or not I'll bring up the betraying during the saving. I mean, it's obviously going to be the elephant in the room - maybe it would be best to acknowledge it, perhaps with a jokey: 'I certainly hope you've got all the betraying out of your system now!' No, that sounds too pointed. How about: 'I expect you're glad it's this way round, aren't you? I bet you'd be a bit nervous if you needed me to save you! You know, because of that betraying thing.' No, maybe I'll just leave it. He knows what he did. And I don't want to distract him from the saving. 

Anyway, my point is, I would definitely let him save me. And I'd come to that the decision fairly quickly and easily too - I wouldn't make a huge, rich, ambitious tapestry out of it. But maybe that's just me - I'm  a forgiving person. And I like being saved.