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Dear bloggers all,
Firstly let me say thank you to all of you for your greetings.
Secondly I hope you have all returned to some form of normality – whatever that is.
And thirdly, I hope you will have the decency to avert your eyes as I have dis-robed.
THE FIRST ANNOUNCEMENT OF 2008.
As some of you will be aware I have been clawing my way up the greasy pole of radio.
I slept with as many people as was necessary.
I bribed those of influence.
I networked my way round the bars and drinkings holes of the high and mighty.
It all paid off because just before Christmas I had a phone call from Rob the Agent.
‘Are you sitting down?’ he enquired.
I was indeed perched on a chair at the kitchen table due to my still insulted ankle.
‘How do you fancy five days a week starting on January 7th. Every lunchtime 1 through till 4..
I know I yelped because Jackson looked up from his bean bag.
I jumped up the better to sit down again.
‘How do I fancy it?’ Jim put his thumbs up, Jackson barked his appreciation. ‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’ I retorted.
At 5 o’clock the following morning I awoke thinking I was a victim of an elaborate hoax.
Rob the Agent called.
‘Has it sunk in yet? he beamed.
‘Am I the victim of an elaborate hoax?’ I asked.
‘The final details are being discussed today.’ said my very cool negotiator. ‘Have a good Christmas and sort yourself out for January.’
Rob hung up, I hung up. Jim stood up. I sat down. Jackson got up. I stood up. Jim sat down. Jackson sat down. I sat down. Jim stood up. I jumped up knocked over a glass of cranberry jiuce and hobbled to the sink for a sponge.
Jim left for the theatre, the door slamming behind him.
2007 had come to an end with a bang

So Christmas was turkey and ham.
New Year was bubbly and movies.
Today was as if the festivities hadn’t taken place.
I took the 12.39 into Charing Cross, the Bakerloo Line to Baker Street then walked to Montague Row, which is opposite a really good Charity store. I sometimes browse but never buy.
At 2.35 I sat down around a six sided table, read four lines down the telephone to 2 blokes in Norwich who recorded my voice for Anglian Home Improvements.
I left, bought an Evening Standard, and arrived back at Charing Cross at 15.15.03.
Had I not bought the paper I would have had 3 seconds in hand and caught my train. I saw it leaving Platform 6.
To compensate I bought two big purple Quality Street Chocolates.
One dreadful ham and cheese panini.
I tube of mints, and one bottle of drinking yoghurt. Hence the resaon for my nakedness.
By the time I reached Tunbridge Wells my waistband had tightened, my tolerance shrunk and my mood changed due to brain altering additives.
The daughter collected me in her hot box, the music rattling the doors and windows. We arrived at the cottage with me feeling decidedly queasy and out of sorts.
Now that I am in unchallenging attire, she in the bath, my blood sugar level back to normal and the prospect of yet more Bafta viewings, I feel a lot better.
I have watched more films than are advertised on the London Underground and yet still I somehow managed to cock up the voting. The second round starts in fifteen minutes so I will put down all my nominations.
I have the foodie show on Sunday, until they can find a replacement for me, and I start my new career on Monday lunchtime.
I will be living in London for 5 days of every week, learning how to be a broadcaster.
It’s scary, challenging and incredibly exciting.
I have asked for my name to be put on the back of a Number 19 bus, I will then feel I have well and truly arrived.
I will blog often, and invite you all to listen – between my big mouth and your big opinions we should make sweet radio, at least that’s the kind of thing Howard Stern says!
Ten minutes before my Bafta voting begins so I’m signing off, taking down the Christmas tree and hoovering up thousands of pine needles that will keep appearing until March, making a cup of hot weak tea and contemplating my future, which from where I’m sitting looks pretty rosy.
Thank you for you support.
Have a good night and
cul8tr.