Voice From My Past

‘Hello, Richard,’ said the voice I recognised but hadn’t heard in an age. ‘Long time no see.’

‘Raj?’ I said, struggling to recall the last time my old sparring partner from ‘This Morning’ had rang me. ‘Is that you? How’s life as a professor going?’

‘Quite well,’ he said. ‘In fact, very well. I’ve just launched a new blog.’

You can imagine who this news filled me with delight. ‘A blog! How fantastic, Raj,’ I said. ‘You might know that I’m something of a blogger, myself. One of the least read but widely admired blogger in the country. Only the other night a wonderful lady viewer emailed me for the recipe for my tuna plait.’

Dr. Raj didn’t sound too impressed.

‘You still have those inferiority issues, don’t you Richard?’

‘How should I know? I’m not Dr. Smarty Pants Professor of Psychology...’ I took a long deep breath and waited a moment. ‘So,’ I said. ‘Tell me about your blog...’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘It’s just a place where I want to connect with an audience. Chat about important matters in my life and generally break down all barriers that prevent people from getting to know a super talented man of letters.’

‘Pretty much what I do with my blog,’ I said. ‘I hope you’ve got a good name for this project.’

‘I have,’ he said. ‘I call it “The Raj Persaud Appreciation Society”.’

‘You cheeky bugger,’ I replied.

There must have been something in the way I said this. It was more of a scream than your average, common-or-garden ‘cheeky bugger’. Judy came running in from the kitchen.

‘Listen to this, Jude,’ I said. ‘You won’t believe it but Raj had gone and launched his own blog and bloody called it “The Raj Persaud Appreciation Society.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ asked Judy.

‘What’s wrong? Well, for one, there’s not many people who want to appreciate him. And don’t you think it sounds a little too like a certain highly popular blog read by 3.2 million people a week?’

‘It sounds nothing like Thought Experiments,’ said Judy as she retired back to the kitchen.

I just hung up the phone and locked myself behind my office door. There are only so many insults a man can take after another hard day split between Manchester and London.