You may have woken up this morning and been somewhat surprised to read the headlines on some newspapers claiming that Judy and I are in negotiations with other TV channels to continue our domination of tea-time television. Had I read that John Wayne was in negotiations to continue his domination of the lawless West, I couldn't have more surprised. Unfortunately, I'm in no position to either confirm or deny the rumours of the £4 million deal. Judy handles the financial arrangements and I've been too busy today working on 'Eye of the Storm 2'.
Why this particular show should involve my staring at Word documents for eight solid hours and fixing other people's grammar and typing mistakes is too long and arduous to go into here. Let's just say that it's part of the magical mystery of television that you viewers rarely get to see. That the documents have more to do with the Leisure industry of North East England is similarly confusing. However, the day has been one that has blessed me with much in the way of new knowledge.
I have discovered that:
* The average wedding the UK costs over £18,000 and has approximately 106 guests.
* A man is foolish should he try to sail his yacht into any harbour of North East Scotland when there is a strong wind blowing from off the sea.
* A 5% rise in the seasonal visitors to a certain holiday camp in East Anglia would produce a sewage problem should there be an unseasonable amount of rainfall.
Other remarkable discoveries I've made today include the fact that all six feet and two inches of the Madeley frame are not suited to life hunched over a keyboard for eight hours. It explains why I've just had Judy walk barefoot over my back to iron of the kinks. It also came as something of a surprise to learn that in the course of negotiating my contract with the producers, I'd failed to establish that my eight hour working day didn't include lunch. My day is really nine hours, or eight and a half if I can ram a pickled sandwich down my throat in the Starbucks across the road from the production offices.
I must finally say a word about the nation's railways. When they next decide to cancel an eight AM train, could they give me more warning? Having gone to the trouble of wearing my false nose and beret, it's galling to have to spend an extra half hour on the platform worrying that people might recognise me from the TV.
I'm now getting to bed. I have to be at the offices tomorrow for eight o'clock to ensure that I can beat the rush hour traffic at the other end of the day. A false nose and beret are hardly adequate protection against flailing elbows of rival commuters and tonight's train was so crammed, I found a businessman's sweat stained armpit placed conveniently under the end of my nose. I can't be sure that my plastic proboscis didn't begin to run and my beret droop.