As a former Urban Man ( if you don't know the reference, simply buy the Fist of Fun DVD), I am always fascinated by the wild animals that choose to make their home in the city. Usually they are only glimpsed at night and even then will run for cover if they see you and make themselves known either by the awful screaming and screeching they make while doing it or by ripping open bin bags. But this afternoon as I came into my kitchen for a cup of tea I saw an urban fox sitting in my back yard, under my garden table. It looked me right in the face and showing no fear, just stayed sitting there without so much as a twitch. I wanted a photo, but couldn't get a clean shot from where I was, so went out into the conservatory (I know, get me - it's being knocked down next month to make way for my new kitchen extension). I thought that now the fox would take flight as I was only about five feet from where he was lolling. But he just stayed there, still nonchalantly staring in my direction. I had time to get a blurry photo of the cocky little foxy and only then did he lazily get to his feet and begin to walk away slowly, as if he'd been planning to do exactly that. He was showing me no respect as an opponent. Almost like he thought I could do him no danger whatsoever.

I was happy for him to be there. As you'll see from the photo I don't go in the garden much in the winter - I know I haven't swept up my leaves or weather-proofed my garden furniture. He was in pretty good nick for an urban animal - perhaps his confidence came from the knowledge that no man nor beast nor car could hurt him. he reminded me a little bit of Me2.

Talking of him, Me "the very, very strong gale" 2 was back at the snooker board today, with his friend Me "Normal Man" 1. I have given up trying to predict which player will come down to the basement in form and which will muff everything up. It's turning into a staring contest between all the Mes and all of you. Who will look away first? I am going to keep doing this until no one is listening and I might even still carry on after that. For true theatrical impact this podcast should be made and put out, but never heard. Then it will be art. For now it's a still a man incompetently playing snooker against himself and talking about it. Listen to frame 7 here or subscribe Via iTunes.

But don't worry, I am not stuck in my cellar alone with only myselves for company, tonight I went out for curry with some friends and one of their friends. Her dad was a famous ventriloquist and she told an amazing story about how her elder brother had believed that the father's dummy was a real person and how the dad played along. It sounded like a fun dad thing to do, but it became a tricky fiction to keep up - the dad, not wanting to have to carry the dummy around at all times, pretended that the dummy lived elsewhere and had to leave, but in order to keep up the pretence had to drive the dummy "home" and after unthinkingly saying that the dummy lived in "the mountains" which were an hour's drive away and so the dad had to spend time driving around before coming home. Finally the son found the dummy in the attic and was emotionally scarred by the fact that he was incarcerated and not talking. It was a very funny story (and there was a lot more to it than I've recounted) and the three comics round the table all thought it was a terrible waste that this brilliant tale belonged to someone who wasn't going to do it as a routine. I thought it would make an excellent short film. And said I would steal it and claim it was my own (I do, after all, have some experience of growing up with ventriloquist dummies - my grandad had the ones that his dad had made - and being wanked off by one of them by Stewart Lee).

There is no way anyone will ever know it wasn't my story.

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