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Tuesday 11th March 2014


My schedule is a bit relentless and terrifying and if I stop and think that I have to write two and a half more RHMOLs, a new stand up show and a play in the next four months then I feel a bit sick and giddy. So I don't think about that. Oh no, I just thought about it.

One day at a time, sweet Jesus.

The diet progresses well. After an inexplicable leap in weight on Monday morning, everything settled down again and somehow I've had the most successful fortnight of the year, shedding about 2kg and losing weight nearly every day. I am seven and a half kilos down now, though with sixteen to go to the impossible goal of 72kg. I've been walking a lot, but haven't done so much exercise since I hurt my foot in Cheddar.

It was another three hours of chatting today for Fubar radio. I am certainly no Danny Baker when it comes to filling the unforgiving silence with interesting stories, but I am managing to get something out of my dull brain via the conduit of my stupid mouth. Lou was back this week and as usual delightfully open and honest. During one of the records she told me about something unfortunate that had happened to her this week. She said, "Don't say anything about that on air, though." I agreed. But then in the next link she started telling the story anyway. I think the three hours is essentially therapy for her and I wonder if the show is going out at all or if I am just being employed to help her and stop her doing any harm. But she's really funny and that's all that matters right?

Our guest was Zoe Lyons who it turns out, like Brett Goldstein, has witnessed a poltergeist. Perhaps all comedians are mentally ill. I am the exception that proves the rule. What are you laughing about? I am the sanest man alive.

I had a night off and caught up with the stuff we'd taped off the telly with my wife. Marriage is a conflict as you will know if you have been foolish enough to shackle yourself to someone. The other day my wife was on her mobile phone when we were trying to watch Jonathan Creek. She was texting people and looking at Twitter and I got annoyed because it was distracting and I thought she was missing clues and I wanted us to spend our time together (and even though we were watching telly it seemed odd if one of us was not engaging - there's all kinds of awful layers to this when you think about it: How about having a conversation). She was inexplicably aghast at this, claiming that I am constantly on Twitter (oh yeah? Where's your proof of that) and I said that if I was ever on my phone and it annoyed her then I would immediately stop. So, of course, now the battle lines are drawn. And so every time I wanted to check the football scores (York City on an incredible run of form at the moment) she would make sarcastic comments and call me a hypocrite. I would then stop looking at the phone, only checking it during the adverts or at the end of a show and also point out that she was a hyprocrite, because the other day she had said she could do both at once.  I mean I am a hypocrite and probably a slightly worse one than my wife, but that's not the point. She is too and it's best if we ignore our own hypocrisy and concentrate only on the hypocrisy of the other, thus making ourselves double hypocrites for not noticing our own hypocrisy. 

We both think each other are amazing so the rest of our life must be a competition to try and prove which of us is best. I know it's her, of course, but I am nothing if not dogged in my refusal to admit that I come second in everything in my life.

We had fun though, amongst the seething judgement of one another. I love her very much, but I mean, come on. It's obviously her being the hypocrite here. It's OK to be on your phone if the other person doesn't mind, as long as you stop immediately if they do mind. Back me up here folks. I am the best, right?

Joining Harry Shearer from Spinal Tap and the Simpsons on next week's RHLSTP will be Only Connect host and poker superstar Victoria Coren. Book your tickets here.

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