Up With The Walnuts

Phew! What a solid nine they were! I was out as soon as my head hit my Tempur pillow. My documentary (‘Richard Madeley Meets the Walnut Smugglers’) better win me another BAFTA because my dreams were deep and meaningful but crammed with more walnuts than a slab of Marks & Spenser Deluxe Christmas cake. I can’t stop thinking about them! I see walnuts wherever I look. Walnuts, walnuts, walnuts. I was watching BBC News 24 over Christmas and they had a programme about Dr. Jonathan Miller, who has always been one of my favourite TV eggheads and a man on whom I modelled myself in my early career, in that he’s witty, urbane, knowledgeable about everything, multilingual, and looks good in corduroy slacks. Mind you, I say it was Dr. Jonathan Miller but I could only see a walnut speaking German and discussing Shakespeare.

Anyway, I’m up a bit late but I wanted to report in lest some of you were worrying about Judy’s peanut allergy. Despite my still reeking of walnuts, she looks no different and is currently up on the roof blocking the holes where squirrels have been getting into her attic studio. Her novel is coming along great (thanks to all who have been asking). She tells me that she’s on page 1384 in a size 10 font, the part when Baron Samuel Dingleberry attempts to seduce Norma behind the coal shed but is interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Crotch on his lard omnicycle.

Today I’m off to meet some ex-walnut mules and to learn about the problems they suffer when they stop cramming their insides with the seasonal nut. But before I go, I must commend Stan. He’s on a roll, though I’m sure he’ll never keep it up. His letter to the Advanced Hair Studio reminds me of a funny story I can’t possibly repeat but which ended with my nethers resembling a North Sea seagull after a particularly bad oil spill.