Nietzsche's Moustache

I was shocked that a priest could come out with such language. I’d only asked him if he really believed in the immortality of the soul and if he hadn’t come out with such a weak answer, I wouldn’t have told him my own theory based on my reading of Plato and Nietzsche. So, in a way, none of it was my fault.

Not that Judy thinks I’m innocent. When we got back to the car, she suggested that the christening of our researcher’s baby was neither the time nor place for a theological debate. I say that it’s rare that you can get one of these religious types alone for ten minutes. I merely wanted to make the most of it.

The person I feel the most sorry for is the baby. She was the innocent in all of this. Young Know-it-all Tosspot was as quiet as anything throughout the ceremony. She wouldn’t understand how her life had changed. And that, as I told the priest, is an example of chaos theory, when a small event changes bigger things in an unexpected way. You might just think of little Tosspot going through life having to explain all about her name and about the trouble her theologically deep Uncle Richard got into on the day of her christening. Of course, Nietzsche was also much misunderstood in his lifetime but he hid his disappointment behind his moustache. Which is precisely why I'm considering growing one.

I admire that about a man; a good moustache, that is. It’s why Nietzsche facts are one of my specialities. A simple moustache wasn’t good enough for Friedrich Wilhelm. He had to have the most luxurious nasal hedgerow that money can buy. And, indeed, his money did buy him one; him being one of the first wearers of a nasal toupee. Unable to grow a real moustache due to an accident with paint thinners, the young Nietzsche took to wearing his false one. All this happened in his youth, when he first took an interest in art. But did you know that his notebooks contain the first record of the principals that would later be known as Paint by Numbers? Some say it's his greatest contributions to modern civilization.

Frank Carson in a Post Office

No facts for you today. Instead, it’s going to be a bit like ‘Points of View’ where you have a chance to comment on the recent programming on this blog. I’ve had a few emails from concerned readers (and a few viewers) who have expressed their disappointment in what they describe as ‘the trivial nature’ of The Richard Madeley Appreciation Society. Says one reader who calls themselves Gretna Green:

Why do you talk so much trivial rubbish? Are you really Richard Madeley? If you are then you’re really funny but if you’re not then your just a sad man and I won’t be reading you anymore. My advice to you is to look at Iain Dale’s blog, which is the biggest in the country. He knows how to blog. You’ll never get onto his list of the top 1000 UK blogs with your attitude, so grow up Richard. Talk some sense for a change.

‘Trivial rubbish’? I hardly see what’s trivial or rubbish about my life. Do you? Cycling accidents with Bill Bryson, the condition of Bill Oddie’s feet and Jeremy Paxman’s toenails… Only last week, I gave you an exclusive look at the poem I’d written to my darling wife, Judy, and before that I was posting about my holiday to America. I might have upset a polygamists along the way but they can handle it. They’ve certainly got enough shoulders to cry on.

The letter is typical of the hate mail I receive. The single most popular phrase in search engines that bring people here is ‘I hate Richard Madeley’. Another reader writes:

I appreciate what you’re doing Richard, but its [sic] making your TV show look dull. Why can’t you talk about these things on air? I’d love to see you go biking with Bryson. Can’t you make it into a series? It would be fantastic.

And then I get emails such as this one:

Hello Richard. Love your blog. You are the funniest writer in the world and I can’t believe that more people don’t know about your blog. I think it’s the best blog I’ve ever read. I read it every day and I just love love love it! PS. Can I have a job on your show?

Can you now see that I cannot possibly win?

I suppose if there has been a marked decline in the quality of this blog, it has come as a result of my being taken off a few blogrolls. Technorati say that fifteen blogs link to me. That’s pitiful. I don’t know why I bother. But I take insults and praise in my stride. People have a strange relationship to fame which makes them do funny things when they believe they’re in contract with a celebrity. They want to make contact with you, but as soon as they realise that the contact is only limited, they shun you like you’ve caught bluetongue fever.

Is a story inherently funny or is a story only funny if it’s told from the stage by somebody with ‘fame’? Frank Carson is one of the funniest men I’ve ever met. In real life, he’s exactly as you see him on TV. It’s a tragedy. Fame didn’t make him funny. It’s actually a medical condition which means he can only express himself through jokes. The sad truth of it is that the man finds it hard to cope with everyday life. I was saw him in a post office where he needed stamps.

Cashier: ‘Yes sir? Can I help you?’

Carson: ‘A man walks into a post office to buy some stamps.’

Cashier [now smiling]: ‘Yes? Go on…’

Carson: ‘A man walks into a post office to buy some stamps. He says, “I’d like to buy a book of stamps please…”’

Cashier [now laughing]: ‘Happens all the time…’

Carson [now crying]: ‘He says, “I’d like to buy a book of stamps please but I want you to lick them for me…”’

Cashier: ‘…’

Carson: ‘The woman at the counter says, “We can certainly lick them for you, sir, but would you like first class or second class stamps?” The man replies, “it doesn’t really matter just as long as they’re in my pocket and you’ve got a very long tongue.”’

The silence was like a scalpel drawn across the poor man’s confidence. Unable to explain what he wanted, Frank had to make a punch-line up on the spot. Carson was lost without his writers. It was a pitiful sight.

Which is the point of what I’m trying to say. On TV, everything is scripted. Here, I’m being myself. I'll leave it to you to decide which is more real.

The Pencil in Your Pocket

The Welsh Stripper writes another of his increasingly haphazard posts today and amazingly stumbles across an interesting question which I find myself in rather the unique position of being able to answer. He asks if pitbulls can be forced to open their jaws with a finger/pencil inserted into the hole beneath their tails. An interesting question, though one I believe he has unwittingly stolen from Jasper Carrot who used to talk about the same thing in one of his acts. I happen to remember this tip so well because I have used it on more than one occasion.

You’d be surprised by the number of pitbull terriers that attacked me during my days as a reporter. I’d often go looking to interview some member of criminal classes and found myself staring down the business end of a Doberman. That’s where I honed the skills to render this threat neutral, finding that a good quality HB pencil slots into the hole quite nicely, making it the perfect instrument for dealing with dangerous dogs.

Since I’ve moved into celebrity interviews, I find I don’t need to use the pencil as much as used to, though I always carry one around in my pocket just in case.

It was lucky I did when we interviewed Russell Crowe just after his success on Gladiator back in 2004. He turned up at the studio looking to pick a fight with somebody and I obliged him by getting him confused with TV impressionist Jon Culshaw. It was hardly my fault. I only saw him across the set so I waved and said ‘how you doing Jon?’

Russell was on me in a second and sank his teeth deep into my left thigh. Judy did what Judy does best. She fainted on the spot but I had didn’t have chance to help her. I was too busy reaching for my pencil.

After a few minutes calm was restored and we even managed to film a two minute interview with Russell. When it was all done, we got him to film a few lines to camera to advertise his interview and then we said our goodbyes. Russell was charm personified, signing autographs for everybody in the studio. And then I removed the pencil and he was back to his snarling ways. But it just goes to prove what the Welsh Stripper was asking: yes, the pencil trick does work.

If that fact wasn’t good enough for you, I’ve got some other useful tricks you can use a pencil for. Did you know that if you push it into a shark’s eye socket, you can disarm them? A pencil can be a lethal weapon in the hands of a master. The Japanese martial art of Hapika teaches its devotees to protect themselves with nothing but a pencil. It’s the rarest of the martial arts and doesn’t have coloured belts, having ranks based on a pencil’s hardness. Finally, did you know that the modern pencil was invented in Iceland and remains that country’s major contribution to civilisation?

Jeremy Paxman's Toenails

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you might know about my long standing feud with Jeremy Paxman. It all began when a friend of mine who works in the BBC happened to call at Paxman’s house to pick up some scripts for a new show they were planning about the disappearance of British eels. He claims to have seen Jeremy putting his toe nail clippings on a box he keeps above the fireplace. He also said that the box was almost full of the damn things. Of course, my friend told me this in the strictest confidence, which led to my naturally mentioning on air that Jeremy Paxman collects his old toe nail clippings in a box. I couldn’t see much wrong with it at the time. Lots of famous people have had similar collections. Byron used to collect pubic hair and the late Duke of Wellington had the largest ball of earwax in the British Empire.

Only now it turns out that I might have been mistaken. My friend has finally admitted that it was a hoax. I’m sorely disappointed. I like to think I’m a man who enjoys a good joke but hoaxing is beneath me. I’m sorry but I can’t see the humour in leading gullible people on.

This morning, I nipped around to Paxman’s house to offer him my apologies. It was about nine o’clock and Paxo arrived at the door looking a bit the worse for wear.

‘What the hell do you want?’ he grumbled as he picked up his milk bottles from the step.

‘I’ve come to apologise about your toenails,’ I said.

‘Have you now?’ he looked at me as he gave his testicles their first scratch of the day. ‘Well, I suppose you better come in.’

I followed him into Paxman Towers and found myself entering a different day and age. Modern Gothic doesn’t do the place justice. It was like as thought the Norman Conquest was being run by Homebase.

‘You want some coffee?’ asked my host.

‘Not if it’s any bother,’ I said.

‘Bother? Your existence on this planet is bother but I’m making myself one.’

‘Fair enough,’ I said.

Ten minutes later I’m watching Paxman munching his cornflakes.

‘Well?’ he asked, staring into his bowl.

‘Oh, yes, my apology. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about mentioning your toenails on TV. I now accept that you don’t collect them in a box above the fireplace.’

He looked up, his long face sagging in all the well known places. ‘How do you know I don’t?’ he asked.

‘Pardon?’

He spooned some more cornflakes and looked rather pleased with himself. ‘I said: how do you know I don’t keep my toenails in a box above the fireplace?’

‘Well, that would be crazy, wouldn’t it?’

He shrugged and gave me one of those smiled he normally reserves for Home Secretaries.

‘Listen sonny,’ he said, dropping his spoon. ‘Unlike you, I’m a trained journalist, so I’d check my sources before I run an exclusive. The next time you want to besmirch my name in public, I’d be grateful if you’d check with me beforehand. Now sling your hook, chum, before I give you some of what I gave Michael Howard.’

I was chagrined. I left the kitchen feeling a smaller man. The smaller man was pleased. He’d only dropped in to pick up some scripts. But as I headed to the front door, I gazed into Paxman’s living room and saw a wooden box above the fireplace. I would have checked its contents but I could sense the great man following me and the little man as we headed for the front door.

And that, my dear friends, is why I have only one Paxman fact for you today. Did you know that he collects his toenail clippings and keeps them on a box above his fireplace. It’s the Gospel truth.

Bill Oddie's Feet

I notice in today's papers that a fuss is still being made about the supposed scam involving our phone quiz, 'You Say, We Pay'. I think it’s about time I set the record straight. I had nothing to do with it. I washed my hands of the whole business months ago. It was all Judy’s idea. Ask her. Keep me out of it.

Now, I hope that’s put your mind at rest and we can get on with today’s item which is all about herons.

Bill Oddie rang us last week asking if we would go up to Norfolk and sign some plastic herons he’s been auctioning off on behalf of the RSPB. We said we’d be delighted, what with both of us being ornithologically inclined, so at eight o’clock this morning we climbed into the Madeleymobile and headed north to the Twickleton Kesset Bird Sanctuary.

Oddie’s a funny little man who owns more Wellington boots than any person I’ve ever met. You’d think he lives in a world of muddy pits and animal droppings but it doesn't take long in his company before you see that it’s all for show. The Twickleton Kesset Bird Sanctuary was quite lovely with nice clean gravel paths and not a muddy bog to be seen. He met us at the car and walked us around to the pavilion where the heron signing was due to take place. Not once during the whole morning's event did Oddie take his Wellingtons off. He even trod them across carpets and when a sanctuary offical pointed it out he simply showed them his BBC pass and walked on. Like I said: a funny little man.

I tell you all this in the strictest confidence, of course. And it doesn't alter the fact that he's one of the good guys and one of the world's most charming people. The signing session went very well. I must have signed a hundred plastic herons for visitors and Bill gave us a nice thanks at the end. He then asked us if we could do him the enormous favour of driving him back to London. We said it would be a pleasure and we meant it. Bill said his own goodbyes and then he climbed into the back seat of our Range Rover and we were off.

We hadn’t gone a mile before Oddie tapped me on the shoulder.

‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘I’ll just take off me Wellies.’

Now Wellington boots aren’t the best thing for letting your feet breath. In fact, they more likely to give you a spot of trench foot. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for the smell which filled the car. Foot odour is one thing but this was a batch of something mixed by the devil for the ninth circle of hell. Poor Judy. Her eyes were streaming and if it weren’t for my open window, I’d have passed out.

The drive seemed to take hours and for the most of it, Judy seemed to be asleep. She later told me that she'd passed out but I think that's just an exaggeration. We dropped Oddie and his Wellingtons off at his house and drove round the corner where we bailed out and spent ten minutes walking in the fresh air. When we returned to the car, the smell of Oddie’s feet was still pretty rank. Judy said it reminded her of Warwick City Centre but I can’t possibly comment because of my ongoing litigation with that fine town.

Now for some Bill Oddie facts. It strikes me that this is the second day I’ve posted on a Bill, but unlike the saintly Bryson, Oddie has a dark side that extends beyond his feet. Oddie was once a radicalised twitcher, who would launch night raids to install bird boxes in residential areas all over London. He once climbed a lamp post in Downing Street to install an illegal tit basket. Indeed, his nuts can be found all over London, often hanging in net bags in the oddest places. It's Oddie who scaled Nelson's Column to install a nesting box on the back on Nelson's head. He now claims to have calmed down but rumours still persist that Oddie still masterminds the activities of radical twitchers across the nation.

In Tandem With Bryson

Last week I attended at a charity cycle ride around Durham, accompanied on my tandem by the simply adorable Bill Bryson.

Bill agreed to step in at the last minute when Judy fell foul of her troublesome knee which, you all know, has never been right since she ran the London marathon back in 1987. You might say it was a bit of a blessing. Judy can be too competitive at times, whereas Bill was happy to coast merrily along. He’s also a laugh a minute, though this did lead to a few dicey moments when he took his eye off the road. But even when the brakes failed and we were heading for a ditch, Bill still managed to retain his whimsy. ‘There’s nothing like an English hedgerow,’ he said as we weaved between traffic and sped uncontrollable down the hill. ‘It prevents serious accidents as though God himself had planted cushion bushes down every English by-lane’.

A minute later, Bill was picking leaves from his beard while I took a look at the brakes. It’s then that I discovered that somebody had tampered with the locking nut. Bill thought it was just bad luck but I’d earlier eyeballed Des Lynam hanging around the bike racks with a spanner. I told Bill that I wouldn’t stand for it.

‘Nobody tampers with my nuts,’ I said.

But Bill, being Bill, soon managed to calm me down.

‘What would England be if it weren’t for slightly eccentric TV presenters with a compulsion to do evil?’ he asked and I had to admit that he had a point. ‘Come on, Dick,’ he said, patting my on my back. ‘We’ll go and have a pint of cider in a lovely old-fashioned pub and I’ll tell you some stories about my hilarious adventures with Cornish tin miners.’

Which is precisely what I did and why I’ve been hung over for the last week.

So, now I’m back, and how about some bumper Bill Bryson facts? Did you know that Bill is the country’s most popular author, having sold three books to every man, woman, and child? Such is Bill’s success, he’s being held responsible for a forest the size of Glasgow disappearing every day but, to counter this, he personally plants nearly a thousand new trees each week at his own private oak forest outside Birmingham. It there, on weekends, that he dresses in nothing but Loxley green and likes to be called Robin. Less well know is that fact that Bill has the biggest collection of beard-related literature in the world. He also collects vintage wirelesses on which he listens to broadcasts of old 1950s radio. And did you also know that Bill never flies to homeland of America. He works his voyage on merchant ships being a fully trained coxswain and able to hold his breath under water for several minutes.

Song to Judy

'Anonymous' emailed me to say that I don’t talk enough about Judy. I feel suitably chastened, but, at the same time, what is there to say? Judy is my life. There’s no Richard & Judy with the Judy. Actually, there’s no Richard & Judy without the ‘&’ but I don’t go around professing my love for ampersands. However, that's not the point. The email did get me thinking that I don’t give Judy enough credit for our success. That’s why, before breakfast, I wrote her this little ditty which I left on her pillow.

Judy, wake up, and go and make the coffee,
I’m lying here a while, writing you some poetry,
In order to say that you’re really really special,
But not like ‘special needs’; that’s the wrong kind of special.
I mean ‘special’ like Dr. Raj’s furry psycho pants
Not special like the show we did on donkey-sex deviants.
And because you’re special, the show’s special too,
And the next time you flip out, we all know what to do.
So Judy, wake up and go and make the coffee,
Then admit that married to me, you’re so very very lucky.

Judy is far too humble to let the world know how wonderful she is, so I’ll give you some Judy facts so you might appreciate the woman that I feel so blessed to call 'wife'. Did you know that Judy is an expert plasterer and a fully qualified electrician? She's single-handledly built our extension and relaid the drains. Back in our days on Granada Reports, Judy once arm wrestled Muhammed Ali and the outcome was not as one sided as you’d think. And did you know that Frank Bough once proposed to Judy? Imagine how different the world would have been if she’d accepted.

LAX

We’re flying home from LAX tomorrow morning, so this the last day of our holiday here in the US of A. We’ve also finally arrived in LA, where we had hoped to get a chance to hang out with many of our old friends who’ve made it big over here. Unfortunately, with all the delays caused by my polygamous marriages in Utah, we now won’t have time, though a few well wishers have sent us parting gifts. We hadn’t been in the hotel five minutes when a big bouquet of flowers arrived from Victoria Beckham. I thought it was a nice touch, though Judy couldn’t appreciate it. She was in the bathroom picking shattered glass from her hair and getting the smell of cordite from her clothes.

You might say that driving in from San Francisco had been an ordeal. Judy gets nervous driving on the right and she made a bad choice on the turnpike and we ended up in South LA. Luckily, the car was a rental so we weren’t liable for all the damage from the gunfire. I didn’t mention to the rental people that I’d smashed out the back window in order to return gunfire with my shotgun. I took out at least two gang members before Judy rammed the oil tanker.

It’s the side of Hollywood you tend to forget. Which is why I think I should end with some real Hollywood facts. Do you know, for instance, that the old Hollywood sign on the Burbank Hills has become so ridden with gunfire in recent years that it’s now been reinforced with Kevlar? And did you know that Hollywood legend Mickey Rooney is a distant relative of Wayne? In the recent hot spell, safety warnings were issued for the Beverly Hills area, telling residents to keep windows open because of the toxic fumes coming from all the plastic surgery reacting to the heat. Although the media covered it up and blamed an arsonist, a forest fire is widely attributed to Jane Fonda’s ear implants combusting in some wild scrub.

The Right To Arm Bears

Guns. Guns. Guns. America is full of them. I didn’t realise how ubiquitous they were until I found one tucked under my pillow at the hotel. I rang down to the front desk to ask what it was doing there. ‘It’s complimentary, sir,’ said the receptionist. ‘It’s instead of the mint which we find makes the pillows a bit sticky in the warm weather.’

That’s how I found myself in possession of a semi-automatic and three clips of spare ammo. I didn’t know what to do. In the end, Judy suggested that I took it to the local police station. We got there before lunch and I handed in the gun. They told me they were glad to get it off the streets and I felt quite relieved until they gave me a shotgun back as a reward. ‘It’s part of our shotguns for handguns scheme’ said the sheriff. ‘We find that far less crime is committed with a shotgun on account of their being difficult to hide on the human body.’

So now I’ve got a shotgun and a hundred shells. Judy keeps giving me odd looks when I stand naked in front of the bedroom mirror and cock it. She thinks it’s all a bit unnatural. I just say that it’s the only chance in my life I might get to look like Charles Bronson. I don’t think she likes the way I keep saying ‘take that, you son of a bitch’ in a slightly lisping Lithuanian accent but I swear it will come in handy the next time we get an argumentative guest.

I still haven’t made up my mind about the shotgun. I might get rid of it before we leave for LA tomorrow or I might keep it as a souvenir of the holiday. In the meantime, here are some useful shotgun facts for you. Did you know that shotguns are the only type of firearm that haven’t been used in a political assassination yet they account for more artists, writers, and musicians than drugs? The shotgun used by Ernest Hemmingway in his suicide would now be one of the world’s most expensive had its owner not had the teeth marks repaired on the barrel. And did you know that shotguns are the only legal firearm in the UK so long as you’re either a farmer or a Tory?

Go Ahead Punk

“If you go to San Fransciso, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.” Or if you can’t get flowers, try cannabis joints. That’s right. We’re on the West Coast and in the home of hippydom and the mildly confused and schitzophrenic.

Judy and I arrived in the early hours and have been welcomed with open arms by this most laid back of cities. Of course, the chances are that the city isn’t laid back at all, just heavily sedated, but I’m not going to complain after the flight we had. The journey to California turned me white. We hit turbulence somewhere over the Mid-West and Judy filled four sick bags before she was done. I’m normally a good flier but when we plummeted three thousand feet, I muttered a few prayers to the Great One. I don’t know if Michael Grade heard me but the flight levelled out from then on.

Today we’re off to see the Golden Gate Bridge and some cultural landmarks including Alcatraz Island before we drive to Los Angeles in the next day or so. For the moment, have some San Franciso facts. Did you know that the city has more hairdressers than any other place on the planet but not one of them advertise a flower-arranging service for your hair? Tony Bennett’s song, ‘I Left My Heart in San Franciso’, has led to a business in burying hearts for people all over the world and it now has three hearts-only graveyards. Although the Dirty Harry films were filmed in San Franciso, as was the Steve McQueen film, ‘Bullett’, did you know that it actually has few gunfights involving Magnum .44s and last year not a single car chase down the city’s famous tiered streets?

Thank You Very Much...

America. Land of the Free. Home of the Brave. And country of the quickie divorce. Actually, fourteen of them. Then I realised they’d included Judy in the deal so that’s why we’re now in Las Vegas. This morning, we were re-married by a Chinese Elvis Presley impersonator.

I'm just glad to be out of Utah. The holiday was becoming quite the social event. After getting my wives out of jail and ringing the show's producers to cancel the sofa for fifteen, I told the gathered Mrs. Madeleys that I intended to divorce them. They had a few things to say, so I told them a few facts of life. I explained how the wives of Richard Madeley would be under constant press scrutiny. They didn’t seem to mind that, so I told them of the heavy workload they’d be expected to undertake. They didn’t mind that either. So, I told them if they were all that happy with the arrangements as they stood, then we’d go ahead with this polyamous marriage. I got straight onto the phone with the producers to cancel the cancellation for the sofa for fifteen and to find out about the guest list for next season. The words ‘Elton John’s latest’ had barely crossed my lips before all fourteen wives started to demand a divorce. I didn't mind that but I was a bit put out that Judy was the most vocal. She just shrugged and reminded me about her allergic reaction to 'Rocket Man'.

Tomorrow we’re heading out into the desert so I might have some facts about sand lizards and peyote for you then. Today, it’s some little known Elvis facts. Did you know that Elvis was an expert in karate and often practised on any tramps who had accidentally wandered onto his Graceland estate? He once broke the collar bone of his great friend Howard Hughes, who his mistook for a tramp during a night-time walk around the grounds. Hughes was never the same again and became a recluse, with guards stationed 24 hours to protect him from Presley's deadly fingers. Did you also know that Elvis owned many animals? Visitors would often be greeted by a baboon swinging from the chandelier in the hall. When the baboon died, Elvis had it turned into a pair of shoes and often sang about his baboon suede shoes.

The Wisdom of Wynette

I had step in a stop a fight between wives Eight and Fourteen and received a black eye in the process. It wouldn’t have been too bad if it had happened back at the hotel but it occurred at the check-out desk at Salt Lake’s airport. Judy was a model of calm and, as any Wife Number One should, she gave me every encouragement as I dragged Eight off the still kicking figure of Fourteen. I thought I had it sorted out but then the American airport police got involved. Hearing my accent and seeing the colour of my tan, I suppose they immediately thought ‘Saudi’ and had me pinned to the deck. It was a mistake. It set all fourteen of my wives off and what followed is said to have been the biggest riot in Salt Lake history,

The upshot of this is that we’re still in Utah, with half of my wives facing trial and me stuck with their legal bill. In a quiet few moments, Judy took me aside, popped a Tammy Wynette tape into the player, and politely suggested that fourteen wives might be thirteen too many. I’m beginning to see her point. This afternoon, I’m going to hire the best legal team that Channel 4 can afford and see what can be done about divorcing the lot.

D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Tammy not only knew how to spell it but she sang song about it too. All I know is it can be a painful business when you’ve one wife but insufferable with fourteen. Did you know that polygamy explains the odd statistic that suggests that more men get divorced each year than get married? A failed marriage has been proved to be the top reason why men grow mustaches and that 75% of men with facial hair are divorced. Divorcees are also three times more likely to go to Yoga classes, which explains why they are the most flexible sector of the American keep fit market.

Richard & Judy's Great American Adventure Part 2

Despite my best laid plans, we’re still in Salt Lake City on account of my nine wives (yes, I’ve married a few more fine Utah women since yesterday) who can’t agree on what to pack for the rest of the holiday. I’m beginning to see the down side to this polygamy, one being the number of hotel rooms I’ve been trying to book at our next stop out in California. Angela (she’s my eighth wife) mentioned that she has relatives out there so we’re going to see if they have room for us but it might be the case that I’ll have to spend the rest of my holiday with wives spread out all about all over the city. As for Judy (you might remember her as my first wife, though I’m already finding it terribly easy to lose her in the crush), she’s coping quite well and I think she’s enjoying having some other women to chat to about my many (supposed) deficiencies.

Oh, now wife number four is calling me. That’s either Kerry or Tabitha. But before I go, I have more Utah facts for you. Did you know that Utah is owned by the Osmonds? They’re big in the local council and each have special responsibilities. Donny is in charge of local sanitation department and we’ve already spotted him climbing out of the drains. Marie runs the police, we I discovered when she pulled us over this morning in her role as deputy sheriff. She wanted to be sure our marriage licenses were in order which, in this country, you have to carry with you at all times. Anybody found without a valid marriage license will be escorted to the local church and issued with one, whether they have a wife or not. Finally, did you know that Utah sits on the largest natural deposit of salt in the world, yet the locals boast of having the lowest blood pressure in the whole of the United States?

Richard & Judy's Great American Adventure Part 1

We landed in America in the early hours yesterday and took another plane straight over to Salt Lake City, here in Utah, where we’ll be staying for a night or two. I thought it would be a different kind of holiday, travelling across America, but now I’m here, I don’t want to move on. Utah is my kind of town with my kind of people. I’ve done so much since I got here that I doubt if you’d recognise me.

Judy isn’t too impressed but she wasn’t that excited when I told her that I was becoming a Mormon. The Richard & Judy & Ruth & Tabitha & Kerry & Rachael & Mary Show perhaps doesn’t have the same ring to it but I say that we should bother about how it looks in the TV listings when a man is sticking to his religious principals. The girls are all lovely and I hope you’ll get to know them (and the few more I hope to marry before I leave) when we have the super-wide sofa installed in the studio. I don’t know what the TV chiefs will make of it but I think Judy is resigned to the fact that we’ll be able to introduce a rotation policy, with Judy only presenting one show in seven or eight.

Polygamy has got a bad name to people who don’t understand it. They think it demeans the woman because the relationship is usually one man to many women. But I say what better way is there of celebrating womanhood than by allowing six women to be married to a man like me? In fact, there are some polygamy facts which some people don’t want you to know about. Did you know, for example, that polygamy is illegal in the UK except in Kent where it is protected by bylaws? Did you also know that the first evidence of polygamy was found by antropologists researching the earliest civilization in Africa? They posit that primitive pigmy polygamy began with a progenitor practising polymorphous perversity but I don’t think it’s as simple as that.

The Oddly Shaped Richard

You find me in something of an adults-only mood, today, and I suggest those of you who of a sensitive nature might like to turn away now. I’m moving straight into XXX rated material.

Have the innocents gone? Good. The rest of us can tackle (if you’ll excuse the pun) the more touchy subject of the male member. That’s right. Today I want to talk about balls, nuts, bollocks, dicks, penises, one eyed monsters, knobs, trouser snakes, willies, and what is euphemistically known in the Madeley household as ‘the butter monster’.

I wouldn’t normally write about this kind of thing but I’ve become frustrated by the number of taboo subjects that we’re not allowed to discuss at 5pm, even on Channel 4. First they wouldn’t allow me to raise the subject of those poor men born with less than seventeen inches and now they won’t let me mention Nani’s oddly shaped manhood.

If you don’t know the story or the lead characters, I can only direct you to the News of the World where you’ll be guided through the full tale in the company of the delightful Tyese and Gemma (above) who in no way resemble a pair of whores with faces like heavily made-up house bricks.

For those of you who prefer to skip the nasty detail, the story recounts the pleasant evening enjoyed by Manchester United footballer and last year’s Footballer of the Year, Christian Ronaldo, and two of his team mates, Nani and Anderson, along with some Leeds prostitutes. I read about the business in the car on the way to the studio on Monday and told Judy of my dismay that there had’d been more of a public outcry about the revelations. Only a year or so ago, Ronaldo was advertising the Suzuki Swift, the economical supermini. Now he's into escorts, and not of the type build by Ford, though looking at Tyese and Gemma, I'm not so sure...

I wondered about the declining state of morals in this country and my own rather old fashioned attitude towards three men, two women, a jacuzzi, and the sexual demands of a fat limo driver. I care not a jot about what consenting adults get up to in the privacy of their own homes but this whole business sounds less like love making and more like monkeys getting horney in Whipsnade Safari Park.

Clearly, I’m a bit out of touch with modern morals and can't help but feel that the whole thing raises so many questions.

Tyese and Gemma complain that they weren’t treated with any respect. It has to be one of the oddest complaints by women who admit to having a credit card machine in one of their handbags. In fact, the more you read about it, the more this mound of writhing Premiership stars and Yorkshire hookers begins to resemble a Fisher Price Activity set. The only thing missing is a bell and the thing that squeezes playdough into funny shapes. Or perhaps that brings us back to the state of Nani’s oddly shaped knob.

What exactly do the girls mean when they say it was oddly shaped? I’d say it was oddly shaped if it looked like a telephone or a giraffe. Perhaps he’s done too many back flips and it’s tied itself into a knot. Or even funnier still is if it looks like Alex Ferguson. Without the detail, we can only speculate. Perhaps it’s the same shape of the Premiership Trophy.

And what kind of company can advertise itself as an ‘escort service’ while really running a prostitution racket? The answer is: a clever one. The company is sure to do plenty of business now that The Times and the News of the World have advertised it the nation. But this is how the company itself describe their service.

‘McKenzies model escorts also make ideal companions for dinner dates, afternoons sampling the delights of Manchester's many art galleries and exhibition spaces, or evenings at an award-winning production in one of Manchester's many impressive theatres.’

Are they being serious? Are there men out there who pay a woman £200 an hour just to walk around an art gallery? Do you think that either Tyese and Gemma know a thing about L.S. Lowry? I hate to leap to judgements but I really doubt they know oil paint unless they were asked to frolic naked in the stuff.

In order to calm myself down, how about some facts about penises? I’m sure you know that the most oddly shaped penis in the animal kingdom belongs to the pig which is actually shaped like a corkscrew. But did you know that it’s actually possible to take a cork out of a bottle with a pig’s penis? It’s true, though I wouldn’t advise you to try the wine. In certain Aboriginal tribes, the slicing the penis is considered a rite of passage but did you know that it also brings with it free tickets to one of nineteen different theme parks across Australia? Finally, do you know that the silly old rumour about Hitler having only had one testicle was disproved by the Russians who still keep all three of them pickled in a bottle in Moscow.

Horseradish

I spent the weekend doing a modeling gig for GQ Magazine. Can’t say I was that impressed by the photographer. I didn’t mind taking off my shirt for the shoot but I wasn’t sure that being totally covered in horseradish is how I like the public to see me. It’s why I’m in a rush today. I’ve had a terrible reaction and my skin has begun to blister. I’m off to see this guy that Dr. Raj (or I should say, Professor Raj) has recommended. I only hope I can get there before I shed my nipples and half my right shoulder.

So, some quick facts about skin before I go. Did you know that 95% of all dust is made from human skin and that the other 5% is dried toenail? Skin is not actually pink but pale blue but the light reacts with blood vessels and gives it a reddish colour. In Hollywood, so much skin is removed during plastic surgery that there’s a special dump north of Beverly Hills were it’s buried. The Joan River’s Memorial Earlobe Gardens were opened on the site last year as part of a scheme to help the pit blend in with the local environment. Rumours that Leslie Nielsen's jowls have begun to reproduce have been strongly denied.

Those Ruddy Bloody Dogs

Does anything say ‘Friday’ more than our Strictly Dog Dancing final? Doesn’t it just make you long for the weekend that little bit more? I know I do. Knowing I have to judge choreographed cainines later in the day, I often think it’s a minor miracle that I’m not rat arsed by lunch. When I see those little mutts in their sequins and ties, I begin to regret agreeing to what has been one of Judy’s dumbest ideas. Not that I had much of a say in the matter. Judy can be persistent and she gave me an ultimatum. It was either the dancing dogs or parrots that can yodel.

Dogs. I can’t stand the bloody things myself. And the owners are worse. I swear that if Britain didn’t have dogs to look after, the national musical instrument would be the banjo. Want kind of person wants to teach tap dancing to a terrier? Have they ever wondered if a dog wants to learn to tap dance and what advantages a tap dancing terrier might have over the rest of the animal kingdom? It’s hardly evolution. Can you imagine in a thousand years the possibility that all dogs can tap dance. Nature will have weeded out all dogs with weak ankles or a poor heel-toe. There’d even be films dedicated to them. Little doggy versions of Gene Kelly splashing through the puddles or doing Busby Berkely style spectacles. Some people probably love the idea. If it ever catches on, though, you know who came up with the idea.

Before I go and hit the tonic water, here are some doggy facts. Did you also know that medically all dogs are cross-eyed but they have learned to live with the condition? Did you also know that dogs carry more parasites than rats? In fact, some bigger dogs have been known to carry small rats. In some countries, small rat infested dogs have been found living in the fur of larger mammals and that the original Lassie had a rat living in its coat for the first three films. Did you also know that Mae West’s favourite animal was her pet Alsatian? On the animal’s death, she had skinned and made into a hat. Mae’s Alsatian hat caused a huge storm of protests in the 1960s but for a short period of time, it was the height of fashion to wear a dog skin hat. Bob Dylan wrote a song about the trend but later changed it to a Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat when music executives refused to allow him to sing about his Labrador’s Rib Cage Hat.

Beware the Pheasants!

Clarissa Dickson Wright is on the show tonight and she’ll be showing Judy how to pluck a pheasant. Clarissa is one of the nicest people you can ever hope to meet; big in spirit yet as down to earth as they come. Even when she’s plucking a pheasant, she’s one of the most affable and pleasant people around.

I always think it’s a shame that she’s never married and hasn't passed on all she knows about the countryside to a son or daughter. I know I'm passing on all I know about presenting a TV show to my kids. Clarissa knows so much that it's a real tragedy if it's lost. If only she had a son, for example, and he were to become interested in pheasants and their plucking, then I’m sure he’d be very pleasant too. In fact, I often wish I weren't so much a pleasant pheasant plucker but a pleasant pheasant plucker's son. The fact that I’m not disappoints me on a daily basis.

Okay, some facts about pheasants and pheasant plucking. Did you know that pheasants are rarely pleasant? They are one of the most vicious members of the avian family and have caused the deaths of countless game wardens over the years. With a razor sharp beak and extremely strong claws, a pheasant can cut you to the bone. They are prized for their feathers which produce one of the finest writing quills but they have to be plucked with great care. The feathers are sharp and contain a toxin which, if it gets into an open cut, can produce euphoria in a victim followed by a slow death. Being a pleasant plucker is not always as good as it sounds. You have been warned.

Happy Slapping Alan Carr

It’s cheap filler but the audience haven’t noticed yet. I’m talking, of course, about Richard and Judy's Funny Five, which we’ll be featuring on tonight’s show. We’ve gone out and found the funniest material on YouTube and we’ve been asking viewers to vote for their favourites. It’s quality television at its best. If you’re into happy slapping or want to see the hilarious result of a polar bear meeting a Japanese whaler then YouTube is for you.

If you haven’t heard of it, YouTube is the latest internet phenomena allowing you to take copyrighted material and broadcast it free to the world. And because YouTube is owned by Google, there’s no chance you’re going to get sued by the original copyright owners. It’s also great for shows such as ours because we can also find work by talented unknowns which we can broadcast without having to pay them a penny.

Well, that’s the theory. Most of these talented unknowns seem to be young boys in bad vests miming to the Crazy Frog song. But that’s the way with the world. No matter how much you underestimate your audience, they will always surprise you with the things they find funny. I suppose it explains the popularity of Alan Carr. And why nobody has been filmed happy slapping him remains a constant disappointment to me.

Some YouTube facts for you. Did you know that YouTube has caused a surge in the number of youngsters learning to mime? Mime classes across the world are reporting record numbers of students. It has also contributed to the number of accidents involving dogs running into patio doors. In the US alone, last year, nearly ten thousand people lost one eye or more in comedy related accidents involving looking down the end of a hosepipe.

Getting to Humphrys Before Beelzebub

The more I think about it, the more I’m sure that God was made in my image. It’s not just my immaculate hair and permanent tan that leads me to this conclusion, but it’s the little things such as my omnipotence and omnipresence. I only mention this because we’ve got John Humphrys on the show tonight telling us what it’s like to be agnostic. Usually I get tired of hearing about celebrities finding God so it’s nice to entertain one who is going the other way. Next year, I expect to him to come back on the show to talk about his first twelve months living as a worshiper of Beelzebub. It’s my duty, I suppose, to help him see the light and to help him out of his devilish ways but the problem with these people who’ve worked in the BBC all their lives is that they can’t see the bigger picture. In their minds, there’s nothing bigger than Aunty Beeb. The very notion of their being a God goes against their belief in the holy trinity of Wogan, Dimbleby, and Peter Purves.

I’ve done some research ahead of the show so here are some facts John Humphrys facts I might not get to use in the interview. Did you know that John lent his name to the character played by John Inman in Are You Being Served? He is allergic to cockles yet has is a fully licensed diver, often spending his weekends searching for old wrecks off the Cornish coast. He began his career as a stunt double for Packtrick Macnee in the Avengers but turned to journalism after breaking a wrist when a stunt involving an umbrella and Emma Peel’s leather boots went terribly wrong.

Keeping the Streets Safe

I only have time for a brief update today. I’ve spoken many times about my efforts to get the Richard & Judy Safe Street initiative up and running, so it’s a real pleasure that we’ve got the original Equalizer on the show tonight. That’s right. Mr. Edward Woodward’s coming in for a chat. I’m a big fan of the man’s work. He’s my second favourite vigilante after the late great Charles Bronson.

I don’t know many times I’ve watched Death Wish, Death Wish II, and (the greatest of them all), Death Wish 3, but I do know that I'm in a minority when I say it’s the best trilogy in cinema history. Michael Winner directed all three and I think it’s a shame that he’s moved into making adverts for accident insurance instead of sticking with what he knows best, the business of taking an eye for an eye. Calm down dear! It’s only an snub nosed Beretta. Judy takes the opposite view of the films and claims they’re irresponsible and encourage people to take the law into their own hands. It’s why our own Safe Street plans have failed to get her blessing. She sees it as a kind of neighbourhood watch and I see it as gangs of our viewers armed with sticks with large nails in them.

Some vigilante facts for you. Charles Bronson wasn’t originally cast in Death Wish. The role went to Sammy Davis Jnr, who dropped out of the project at the last minute when Winner cut all the song and dance numbers from the script. Death Wish may have helped bring the issue of vigilantism into the public arena but it also helped promote moustaches during the 1970. Bronson became the spokesman for the American Moustache Club and often travelled the world encouraging men to develop their facial hair.

In The Company of True Beauty

Jordan’s bringing her tits onto the the show tonight so I’m feeling a bit humble. It might get a bit crowded on the sofa so we might have to get Judy to shove over a little or ask Jordan to let a little air out.

For those of you that don’t know who (or what) I’m taking about, we’ve posted this bio on our official website.

Katie Price is one of the most successful female celebrities in Britain today. She has conquered being a model, author, mum, wife and now perfumer! Katie is the author of four successful books, two of which are autobiographies. This month, Katie releases her new perfume ‘Stunning’. She joins Richard & Judy in the studio to talk about her new baby Princess Tiaamii and Pete’s struggle with Meningitis, her amazing success as an author, and her new perfume.

Hard to know where to begin, isn’t it? Makes my own accomplishments pale somewhat. To be honest, these big name interviews get me nervous. I've been back and to to the toilet all morning. The woman has talent oozing out of her every pore. I imagine this is how Parkinson felt before he interviewed Ali.

I should probably begin by chatting about little Princess Tia Maria and then asking her about becoming a role model for many young girls across the country. I’ll ask her about her boob jobs and how she got started in the business of soft core pornography. Of course, she’s a famous author with two novels out (ooh er!), so I’ll be asking her about the creative process that brought about her ‘amazing success’ and the moral choices she makes when faced with the job of writing page after page of sex. I'll ask her if she finds it as tedious to write as I find it tedious to read. Then I’ll ask her how she comes up with her ideas and how she first came up with now notorious scene in her first novel when her heroine ‘did it like a monkey’ in Knowsley Safari Park.

The woman is sure to interest you so don’t forget to tune in. And also, don’t forget to buy her new perfume, “Stunning” available from 24th August. Prices start from £18.00 but it’s cheaper if you buy it by the pint.

Some Jordan facts. Jordan has famously nicknamed her breasts Eric and Ernie, but did you know she's been sued by the estate of the late Ernie Wise? Did you also know that Jordan’s perfume actually contains her own nipple juice and comes with a money back guarantee should your nipples not grow an inch after using it? Jordan hopes to be shortlisted in this year’s Booker Prize and, if she is, she’ll be only the second author to do so with breast implants. Jordan is also involved in a high court action against the country of Jordan when it was announced that the small middle eastern nation intended to have a boob job and market its own perfume. Jordan’s calendars are always top sellers but did you know that for the past five years they’ve been missing the month of March?

Hedgehog Juice

After last night’s show, we all went down to the New Forest and ate some hedgehog with my old mate, Ray Mears. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been an admirer of the outdoors life. Although I hate the idea of blood sports, which I think are barbaric, I’m a man who appreciates the old ways of the countryside. Many a weekend, you’ll find me out in the wilds, gutting a wild boar or taking out a deer from half a mile away. I can put a bullet between a sparrow’s eyes from 100 metres. Naturally, it’s not something I like to make known to the general public who are a bit squeamish about such matters. Once they seen you up to your elbows in a bison juice, they tend to think only bad of you. They don’t understand that we’ve been doing this for millennia and a few modern niceties such as abattoirs and the Tesco frozen meat section shouldn’t divorce us from the realities of what it means to be meat eaters.

I suppose my love for the countryside developed when I was working on Granada Reports. They once sent me off to Kenya to do a piece about a North West couple who had opened a safari tour operation there. That’s when I first learned to use an elephant gun. That was back in the late 70s when there wasn’t the problems we have these days with the shortage of animals and too many people making a fuss about ivory. Which is why I do so little hunting these days. I restrict myself to animals which are in plentiful supply, perhaps the domesticated dog on the weekend or if it’s a special occasion I’ll take down an owl.

Being vegetarian, Judy won’t have anything to do with my meat. It’s a real shame. Hunting facts are one of my specialities. I also follow in a long tradition of celebrities who have done exciting things. Did you know, for example, that in his younger days, Ken Dodd once wrestled a bull to the ground? This was before golf became the sport of choice for comedians. All the great entertainers would get together in Spain and live out the life of slightly funnier versions of Ernest Hemmingway. They’d often go to Africa and hunt big game. Charlie Drake prided himself on his collection of gnu’s eyebrows while dear old Les Dawson was something of an expert in the trapping of finches.

The Viagra Truth

There’s been some talk in the media about my experimenting with Viagra. I think I should explain all before it gets out of hand and I have every Tom, Dick & Sir James asking me about my sex life. The plain truth is: yes, I have experimented with Viagra. But I didn’t experiment on myself.

I actually gave it to the dog. Barney (right) had been looking a little under the weather lately and, to be perfectly honest, it was a rainy Saturday and I’d got myself a little bored. Judy had nipped to Iceland (the supermarket, not the country) and left me at home doing The Times cryptic crossword. It had taken me longer than usual to finish but, after five minutes hard work, it was done. I scribbled in the word ‘metempsychosis’ and threw my pencil down and turned my mind to what I was going to do next. Not being a man who likes to sit on my hands, I looked for something to do. Only, Judy had already done everything. The house was tidy. The garden looked good. The lawn was cut.

That’s when I spotted the Viagra bottle. We’d picked it up on the show last week when Dr. Raj come in to talk about troubles south of the trouser line. Not really thinking what I was doing, I took a few of the tablets, crushed them up, and dropped them in the dog’s bowl. You know… Just to see what would happen.

That was about eleven o’clock in the morning. I think I must have dozed off. I woke up an hour later when I heard Judy scream. I found her standing in the hallway looking as white as a sheet as Barney was straddling a frozen turkey in the middle of the hall.

‘Oh Richard! Get him off!’ she cried.

I leapt into action. Only, I could prise him away. The poor animal was frozen solid to the bird. Not only was he frozen solid, he was frozen by a very delicate part of his anatomy. It wasn't the sort of job you could go at with a chisel and a crowbar.

An hour later, a few bowls of hot water and some details you’d probably not like to hear, we’d got him off the turkey. Barney had suffered frostbite in places it’s not natural to get frostbite unless you’re a Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes. The vet says he might not be right down there again, which, actually, is a bit of blessing. We’d been talking of having him neutered so this saved us the job.

That's pretty much the whole story. Judy threw the Viagra down the toilet and set to work preparing the turkey for our Sunday dinner, which, despite all its adventures, tasted even better than ever.

Which leads me, I suppose, to some turkey facts. Did you know that the turkey is actually the national bird of Turkey? It not flightless, as many believe, merely overweight. A properly trim turkey can fly as well as any bird, and, in some African nations, they are raised for sport and flown in races, much as we race pigeons in this country. The biggest every turkey weighed in at over twenty stone and fed a family of twelve for Christmas and through to Easter, two years later.

My Weekend With Jane Seymour

Another weekend came to an end with me damp, bloodied, and sitting in a police slammer. Yesterday’s appearance at the Heathrow protest wasn’t as successful as we’d hoped. I was meant to be doing a feature with Jane Seymour on fashion tips for middle class protestors. We’d only been there ten minutes before some balaclava wearing member of SO18 came up to me and cracked me across the forehead with his baton. I tried to protect my face, which is perhaps why he didn’t recognise me, but when I told him I was Richard Madeley, this only seemed to spur him on. He didn’t stop hitting me until I fell unconscious. The last thing I remember is seeing Jane Seymour climbing over a razor-wire fence with an Alsatian hanging from her leg.

I spent the night in jail and got out this morning. My prison diary will hit bookshops next week but I can give you a sneak peak into all the interesting characters I met in there. One was ananarchist who goes by the name Stumpy. He told me some wonderful recipes involving lentils, dandelions, and stinging nettles. I’m trying to get him on the show this week in order to help us fulfill Channel 4's green quoto for this month. Another protestor told me that she works in the make-up department of the BBC and she had some fascinating stories about Natasha Kaplinsky's ears.

I thought I’d be a bit Stumpy-esque and eschew a theme for today’s facts. Let’s have a miscellany of interesting things. Such as the news that Jane Seymour can foresee the future, just like her character in Live and Let Die. She actually lives in the same house in the Caribbean and the only way to visit her is to take a hang glider from the back of speed boat. Did you also know that Heathrow is actually built on a bog and the movement of traffic landing and tacking off is actually rotating the whole site by a degree every ten years. Finally, did you know that Natasha Kaplinsky’s earlobes aren’t her own? She lost the real things many years ago when her earrings were snatched from her by seagulls while she was filming a report in Trafalgar Square.

That Frank Sidebottom Thing

I bought myself one of those ultrasonic rat traps this morning. Only it doesn’t trap rats. It merely plays tricks with their mind and keeps them away from the house. It works in the same way that Kayne West at full volume keeps friends from your doorstep and annoys the neighbour’s dog.

The trap hadn’t been turned on for more than half an hour when Judy started to act strange. I thought she was happily unloading bags of cement from the boot of the car, so I’d gone to the conservatory, settled myself in a chair with a drink, and was reading some rubbish they'd printed about me in the entertainment section of The Sun. All of a sudden, Judy appears around the side of the house waving her arms in the air and shrieking something about it being free fitting at Safestyle UK.

There was no way I could know it was a problem with the rat trap. I mean how could I? Judy’s nerves have never been right since she interviewed Frank Sidebottom for This Morning about ten years ago. Some people say she looks a bit fragile when she’s on TV, but I put it all down to the moment Sidebottom gave her a hard time and wouldn’t stop asking her about felt tip pens. Put paper mache in front of her now and Judy visibly pales. It’s why we’ve never done any Blue Peter style items on our shows. Anyway, I’d noticed that Sidebottom is now plugging Safestyle windows and patio doors and, putting two and two together I came up with five. I thought it accounted for Judy's erratic behavour. Only when she’d dug a hole in the garden and began to gnaw through the cable to the pond’s fountain did I realise what was going on.

Being a thoughtful husband, I didn’t immediately turn the rat gizmo off. I let the old girl run around for five minutes, thinking it might calm her down and help give her a good sleep tonight. It also gave me a bit of time to remember a few of the rat factoids I know you'd be interested in hearing. Such as the fact that rats technically fall under the dairy policy of the EU since they have milk glands, six nipples, and the finest tasting cream outside Belgium. Rats can eat through a human thigh in less than ten minutes, through plate steel in sixty minutes, and through the crust of a Tesco Value meat and potato pie in less than two hours. They are also very adept climbers and are the only animals known to have made it to the top of Mount Everest without oxygen. Rat whiskers are also valued by Mississippi bluesmen who believe they have a better tone than the reeds traditionally used in harmonicas.

A Measured Response to Prune Juice

The advantage of having my own weekday show on Channel 4 is that I can put it to good use. I can help people find organ donors, promote a cause, or help expand literacy in the nation’s school. I can also use it to destroy a man. I only mention this in passing. Make of it what you will, Chip Dale.

I also mention in passing that I’ve always hated prunes. I don’t know how Dale knew this as it wasn’t even in my authorised biography but I want him to bring a halt to this prune juice offensive of his. Let’s not put prune juice in the wrong hands. There’s no room in blogging for these terrible weapons of mass disruption. This morning I sent him a message, warning him to bring hostilities to an end by 6pm tonight. So far, I’ve had no response* and I’m taking measures to launch waves of ‘taffy pulling’ on his blog.

On tonight’s show we’ll be doing a feature on people who look ten years older than their real age and we’ll have make up artist Sue Potter in the studio making Flora Smythe, who looks about 93, look more like her real age of 83. It promises to be an exciting show as Professor Raj Persaud (he’s a professor now?) takes Peter Hitchens through some moves in our continuing feature on celebrity Greek wrestling.

Some prune facts which everyone should know before they start spreading the juice around. Did you know that in some parts of South America the stones from prunes are placed in the ears to enhance the effects of cannabis? Prunes are also high in vitamin D and can help you tan more easily. The downside of this is you’ll spend more time on the toilet and, all things being equal, the prune / sunbathing ratio cancels each other out. You might even look paler, though not down the backs of your legs. Prunes are a natural laxative and are good for the digestion, unless you swallow the stones which contain toxins which produce a effect similar to LSD, including a strange psychosis in which you believe your stools are singing light Italian opera.

* 4PM UPDATE: Dale's now given up, citing humanitarian grounds and the peace-making skills of Graf von Straf Hindenburg. I think we all know he was worried that Judy would mock his manhood on tonight's show. The first Prunic War has come to an end with a victory for Madeley and the forces of good. Now let the church bells ring.

Fame

When I had dinner with Tony Blair a few months ago, I got talking to Charlotte Church about the terrible habit that minor celebrities have of name dropping. Lorraine Kelly was sitting on my other side and she told us a wonderful anecdote about the time the interviewed Prince Charles and he told her how he regretted not having got to know Gandhi better than he did. We all agreed that dropping Gandhi’s name into a conversation is about as good a name-drop as you can get and then but we questioned whether this made Charles a minor celebrity. That’s when Tony chipped in and explained that Nelson Mandala always told him that Gandhi was one of his heroes too. That’s when Cherie came in with the pudding and George Michael nipped out to the bathroom.

The point I’m trying to make here is that when you mix with the stars, it’s inevitable that you get to know some of them socially. Judy and I try to live a normal life and refuse to live by the conventions of the celebrity lifestyle. Just today, for instance, Judy is busy in the garden building a new rockery with just Kim Wilde and Katie Melua to help her. Having friends over is a good anecdote to glamour. It helps you keep real. When you get up in the morning and find the lovely Clare Balding brewing a cup of tea in your kitchen and you notice that she’s got dirty nails, you tend to realise that we’re all really the same and there’s no such thing as being a star.

Today is a grey Wednesday so I think we need some celebrity facts to inspire us. Did you know that Des O’Connor has a stoat farm in Norfolk? Not only that, he is considered the father of the UK stoat industry. He’s not the only celebrity to have an odd hobby. Billy Connolly drives tractors for fun and Adrian Chiles is a Latin American dance champion. Not all celebrities spend the hobby time in selfish fun. You can only admire the work Jo Brand does for many UK charities and still finds time to spend her weekends helping to restore the spire on Lincoln Cathedral.

Top Tan Tips

The Thinker asks about my tan, as well she should. I’m surprised a few more of you haven’t requested my top tanning tips given the dismal summer we’ve been having. A tan can make you feel better about life, raise your self esteem, and increase your visibility in traffic at night. I sometimes visit your blogs and see your wan portraits and wonder how you have the nerve to show your poor sallow faces in public. It saddens me because I know I can help you. Even when the weather’s dull, you can still get a good tan if you follow my advice. There’s just no excuse for looking pasty at any time of the year. Unless, of course, you’re suffering from some kind of terrible wasting disease. But even then, I say there are few ailments which can’t be cured by a bit of sun, or failing that, some gravy browning and a large brush.

The first thing to know about my tan is that it’s real. I’m one of the rare people who was born with a tan due to the naturally high levels of melanin in my skin. There was quite a commotion at my birth as doctors tried to explain why I was organge. Even if you’re not blessed by what’s now called ‘The Madeley Syndrome’, you can still get a good tan if you keep your skin tight at all times. Whether you’re lying under the sun, under lamps, or having it sprayed on in a booth by a sixteen year old YTS trainee with a high pressure jet, a tan needs a smooth surface. I use normal clothes pegs to take out the wrinkles from my skin. A couple on the back of my neck will produce a blemish free surface over my face. And when I’m done, I roll over and put a couple of pegs on my lips and eyelids to smooth out the back of my head and my neck. Things get more delicate the further south you go and I’ll leave it to your imagination as to how I get a good tan on my upper thighs.

My other tip is to eat lots of cheese, which is the best way to raise the levels of melanin in your body. In a particularly bad summer, I eat nothing but cheese yet maintain a healthy tan. The weaker cheeses, such as Cheddar, aren’t much use. Mouldy cheeses are the best and this summer I’ve been eating nothing but Roquefort, Gorgonzola, and Stilton. Judy says I smell like a festering camel dumped in an open sewer but I say it’s a price worth paying to look attractive all the year round.

As you can probably tell, I’m a living volume of tanning facts. Did you know that it’s impossible to get a suntan while smoking a pipe? Pipe tobacco produces a smoke that is impervious to the sun’s rays. It’s also difficult – but not impossible – to get a tan if you have a diet high in fish. It’s why you rarely see a sunburnt Eskimo. Did you know that a tan lasts twice as long if you rub margarine or olive oil into it on the first day. Last year, George Hamilton donated his sunbed to the Smithsonian, which can now claim to own the world’s oldest sunbed.

Swearing Mothers, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys

I trust you’re all well this fine Monday morning. I spent my weekend at a country music convention up in Aylesbury and had a marvellous time hoedowning and yee-hawing to the best of Dolly Parton, Freddy Fender, and Conway Twitty. The only disappointment was to get back late last night to discover that I’d offended the Swearing Mother by not initially including her in my thoughtful blogger post. I’ve begged her forgiveness but it doesn’t appear to be enough. So, in the spirit of harmony, I’ve penned a country ballad about this sad story, which also includes a touching little scene about Mopsa’s dog just to make it more poignant. I’ll be singing it on the show tonight, wearing my white silk cowboy shirt and stetson as Judy accompanies me on the guitar and Dr. Raj plays the bull fiddle. If this doesn’t appease Swearing Mother, I think I’ll have to bring out the big guns and take the matter to Denise Robertson.

Today’s country & western facts: Kenny Rogers made much of his fortune by owning the world’s largest rhinestone mine in Kentucky. Ducks have been taught to line dance by no less a figure than Willie Nelson, who happened to be stoned at the time. He is also the only person to have two characters in The Simpsons based on him (Groundskeeper Willie and Nelson Muntz). Dolly Parton invented Tizer but sold the rights to the Coca Cola corporation and used the money to build Dollyland.

Thoughtful Dick

I’m a thoughtful blogger. So says The Thinker who has thoughtfully handed me for one of these awards. A thoughtful man can’t complain when rewards come his way. I felt pretty much the same way when we won our BAFTA for Best Primetime Use of a Sofa or Chaise Lounge. I’m not immediately sure what it means to be a thoughtful blogger as I give it remarkably little thought. I just sit here with my packet of lime and orange tic tacs and hit keys as things take my fancy. I prefer to think I’m just a thoughtful man. Like the time I thoughtfully helped Judy in her hour of need when she so thoughtful popped out of her dress during an awards ceremony a few years ago.

So, I have been instructed to make six choices of my own, which I’ve also done with remarkably little thought. The Richard Madeley Thoughtful Blogger Awards go to:

Clare who has thoughtfully agreed to be The Keeper of the Snails.

Glamourpuss who is thoughtful even when she's up her pole.

Elberry who is being very thoughtful and is currently robbing innocents of their innocence.

Mopsa who very thoughtfully and so is her dog.

Rilly Super who isn't being very thoughtful at all and hasn’t posted for a few days.

And my last award goes to the Swearing Mother whose thoughtful swearing enlivens my every day.

I think that’s enough of being thoughtful. We now return to our normal unthoughtful programming.

More Poles People!

To paraphrase the late Roy Castle: dedication, it’s the name of the game. Or it is if you’re a pole dancer.

After my post yesterday, I was a struck by the interest you all had in my life wrapped around the pole. You wanted to know more. So I’m going to give you more. I’ve asked my tutor, Maximilian Bygravana, to write down a few pole dancing tips. They might help you with your dancing. They might even change your life. I know they have worked for me. If you ever wonder how I mange to wrap my legs into the positions I get them when I sit on the sofa, the secret lies in Maximilian's teachings. The man in a limber genius.

Maximilian’s Top Pole Dancing Tips.

1. Beware the lubricant. Many beginners oil the pole. Don’t. You won’t hang on if it’s wet or covered in anything greasy. Also, don’t oil your thighs. You want them dry if not a little sticky.
2. Chubby thighs. Don’t be ashamed of having chubby thighs. All the great pole dancers have a bit of added meat down there. It will help you hold on longer.
3. Shave your legs. Not obvious until you trap a hair. You have been warned.
4. Stretch. It’s easy to pop a hamstring. Warm up before and warm down afterwards. Don’t pole dance until you’re sure you have a limber crotch.
5. Forget erotic. Pole dancing is more than life in a sleazy strip club. It will soon be an Olympic sport so remember to treat it with respect. If you must grind, don’t smile. If you must smile, don’t grind. It’s a simple rule of thumb.
6. Fake tans are so last year. They can also leave an oily deposit on your pole. See point 1.
7. Make sure your pole is professionally installed. Beginners have been known to break limbs when their poles snapped. Even an amateur can be launched up to forty feet if they're doing a full horizontal revolver when it breaks
8. Help promote the cause of pole dancers by keeping your pole polished and your crotch clean. Remember that if you expect to compete in official competitions, the judges will be inspecting both.
9. Never use bathroom cleaning products on your pole. It can damage the chrome and cause terrible rashes to develop on your thighs.
10. Enjoy. Always enjoy your pole dancing. People might mock you but remember that we’re all part of big pole dancing party and nobody can stop the groove.

Thanks Maximilian. And now since it’s Thursday, how about some extra pole dance facts? Such as the measurement of an Olympic standard pole: 42mm in diameter. The length 8 ft 2 in. Pole dancing is only second Olympic demonstration sport that started out as an erotic dance. The other was Icelandic weasel racing which was a demonstration sport at the 1952 Winter Olympics in Oslo.

Pole Position

When I started to take pole dancing lessons last year, I never realised what an obsession it would become. Nor did I truly appreciate what flexibility it would give my lower back. You might ridicule me but what began as a ten minute feature on the show has now become my regular form of exercise three nights a week. Judy has even allowed me to install a pole in the house. I wanted it in the bedroom but we compromised on the garage. It’s now got to the point that I can’t feel totally relaxed unless I’m upside down, doing the splits, and wearing hot pants. I’ll be talking more about this tonight so make sure you tune in and see me take Kerry Katona through a few basic moves.

I can't think of a better reason than it being Wednesday to give you some pole dancing facts. Traditional poles use in pole dancing are made from sterilized chrome. Bacteria cannot live on them. Pole dancing requires the use of more muscles in the body than any other form of physical exercise except championship darts. Different height of poles are available, with extreme sports enthusiasts using poles that are nearly 38 feet high. Pole dancing is to be banned in Scotland under new rules that demand that all publicly funded forms of exercise have to be kilt friendly. Other celebrities who use pole dancing to keep trim include Noel Edmonds and Jeremy Clarkson.

Kiss Curl

Judy was busy grouting the bathroom so I sat down and watched Superman Returns last night. Despite all the bad press I’d heard about the film, I enjoyed every minute of it. I don’t suppose it comes as much of a surprise that Superman holds a special place in my heart. For those of you who haven’t seen any of the films, they are the everyday story of a good looking brown haired guy working mundane hours as a journalist and spending his nights living out the fantasy of a superhero… And just in case you haven’t figured it out: yes, we even have our partings on the same side.

There can be no wonder that there are so many similarities. Although the original was created in the 1950s, Superman as we now know him is the product of the 1980s. The first Superman was filmed in the UK not far from the ‘This Morning’ studios where we were working at the time. I’d often see the conceptual artists, people from wardrobe, the writers, and even Richard Donner, the director, standing outside the glass windows out there on the Albert Dock, peering in to catch a glimpse of us making the show. At the time they said they were using Judy as a model for Lex Luther but I think we can all now see that there was something more to it than that. The late Christopher Reeve would often drop into our house in Cheshire and ask me how I wear my suits. He later told me that he took the now iconic scene when he pulls his shirt open to reveal the Superman logo from the way I used to dash from the set. Even the kiss curl was mine. You need only ask my makeup lady who has to plaster it down before I go on air.

I have some superhero facts for you today. Did you know that Superman was first played on TV by Mickey Rooney who played the character as a song and dance man? Superman's fear of Kryptonite was a late addition to the character's mythology and was based on Rooney's peanut allegy. Superman may have been first but in recent years Spiderman has become more popular. But did you also know that Spiderman is powerless in small towns or deserts? His whole superpower is predicated on the widespread availability of tall buildings from which to swing. He’s useless in combatting crimes in residential areas as he has to travel as all spiders travel: by drainpipe, emerging from plugholes to fight crime.

Soft Like Velvet Soft?

This morning I woke up with terrible indigestion caused by my worrying about the show. Being the main star (my name does come first), I take more of the responsibility when things go wrong. Recently, I’ve become concerned about the quality of ads we’ve been showing in the breaks. I’ve even begun to tape all the shows so I can watch them later in the day and find out what goes on in the breaks.

On Friday night, I wasn’t happy to see that I’d turned and smiled to camera, said 'see you after the break', and then they'd cut to an ad for stool softener. It’s not easy to admit that there has been a gap in my knowledge but I never knew stool softener existed. It took me a while for Judy to explain what it’s for.

That's when things became interesting. The ad didn't work for me on a dramatic level. I couldn’t understand why five women, sitting around in a cafe, would suddenly start discussing the state of their stools. Nor could I understand why one would be carrying stool softener in her bag and happily bring it out, mid latte. Somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate. And then my mind, inquisative as always, began to ask the sorts of questions I knew I had to have answered. How hard is hard? How soft is soft? How did they come up with a solution? How do they handle quality control? Are there any side-effects? And how is this solution better than bananas?

I hope to do a piece on stool softeners this week but in the meantime, it’s Monday, so let’s have some digestion facts.

You probably know that the human body can’t digest corn but did you know it also can’t digest walnut husks, beetle wings, or black cornflakes? The human intestine is three point two miles long but can stretch to nearly twice that length and is springier than bungee cord. Did you know that the gases produced by all the world’s vegetarians cause more damage to the planet that all the diesel engines? The gases from just one digested lentil could power a bulb for seven minutes. Finally, stomach acid is so powerful that prisoners have been known to use it to melt the bars to their jail cells.

Gnat Facts

Clare from Keeper of the Snails asks three questions I had been intending to address for a long time. Thank you Clare. You catch me sunbathing on the patio and, while Judy prepares my Sunday lunch, I'm in a perfect state of mind to tell you all you need to know.

Clare asks:

1. What can I do with the fluff that comes out of a tumble drier?

2. Why do gnats fly in spirals and never hit each other?

3. Will the gentleman's tie ever truly go out of fashion?

You’d be surprised at the numer of times I’m asked these questions, especially number 1.

I always say that the fluff from a tumble drier is best collected, dried, and then donated to the Worldwide Duvet Fund, which uses the fluff to stuff third-world mattresses. Fluff conservation is close to my heart, and close to Judy’s too, and we’re proud to be spokespersons for the cause. If you work out how much fluff is produced in the industrialised West, you’d realise that many of the world’s lagging problems could be solved at a stroke. Remember: your fluff can help a family combat a Ugandan winter.

Gnats fly in spirals but, despite what you read in pro-gnat propaganda, they do often collide. It’s just they don’t complain about it and rarely demand compensation. Gnats are remarkably free living creatures.

Gentleman’s ties are slowly going out of fashion. This is mainly because I don’t wear them myself, preferring to go about open necked, so you can see as much as me as possible. Neckties have been linked to 92% of all accidents involving threshing machines and mangles. Kipper ties have also been identified as a leading cause of male infertility due to their reducing blood flow around the body. This hypothesis can't been proved, however, due to a lack of data casued by the inability of men who wear kipper ties to find mates.

I have a couple of gnat related facts for you today. Gnats are poisonous if ingested in large numbers. Many cyclists will be taken to hospital each year with gnat poisoning and it is believed that many of the positive drug tests coming in from this year’s Tour de France are the result of cyclists swallowing larger number of insects than in previous years. The gnat is also the national insect of Sardinia, and is immortalised on the Sardinian flag in the form of a small black stitch in the lower left corner.

The Courgette Brothers

Italians invaded Richard&Judy this week in the form of the Courgette Brothers. They didn’t make it onto the show because of a fire in the car park before they were due to go on air. Their mobile kitchen caught fire and the inferno destroyed their food, props, and the brother’s moustaches. We filled in with more chat on the sofa while outside the studio, two irate Italians were kissing their fingers and waving their fists to the sky while crying ‘mamma mia!’

For those of you who don’t live in London, the Courgettes are two of the finest providers of quick food and their appearance on our show was to be their chance to reach a new plateau of culinary fame. They have just filmed a TV show for BBC2 in which they sail across the Atlantic in a rowboat, cooking many different meals from the things they catch or find along the way. ‘Two Men in a Boat Eat Flotsam’ should make them the stars they richly deserve to be and both Judy and I recommend that you tune into the show next week.

I leave you on this fine hot Saturday with some facts about Italy, one of my favourite holiday destinations. It’s also one of the oldest places in the world, with the average age of the population now reaching 83 years old. More money is spent in Italy on toupees than the rest of the world combined, though if you take out the money spent by Silvio Berlusconi on false hair, then they actually spend less per capita than any other country. Italian olive oil is one of the best in the world and achieves its distinct flavour by being pressed the traditional way, squeezed between the gums of Sicilian widows.

Judy Facts

Yesterday, Elberry left a comment asking if Judy has a blog. I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask this obvious question, though my answer won’t surprise you: no she doesn’t. She has neither the time nor the inclination.

Busy with the show for most of the week, Judy cherishes her privacy over anything else. If it weren’t for the cottage we’ve managed to keep a secret outside Brighton, she’d never get away from the clamour of fans ringing her mobile (0845 076 0191). She also likes to keep her weekday schedule unknown to the public, who would only follow her around Harrods on her regular 10.30 shopping spree every Friday morning. I think this is why she doesn’t like people to know that, being a country girl, she was brought up to have a passion for Lincoln Longwool sheep. That's why she’ll be attending the East Anglia Agriculture Show this weekend.

It is Friday and I’m in a rush to buy some new Wellingtons ready for the show. So here are some more of the Judy facts she likes to keep secret. She was a breaststroke finalists in the 1972 UK Championships. She has also swum the English Channel five times and holds the record for completing a double crossing. Judy’s favourite food are pickled gherkins which she often eats when she’s curled up in bed at night. She is an excellent singer and can sustain a perfect C sharp for twenty two seconds. It’s common knowledge that during Granada New’s 1981 charity campaign on behalf of orphaned children, Judy stood in a bucket of lime jelly for forty eight hours . Less well known is the fact that her feet still have a green tint which has to be covered by makeup before she’ll go on air.

Saved By Dr. Raj

It was a parasite. Judy spotted it as I was grinding my beans this morning. It was lodged behind my left ear. It explains all the self-doubt I’ve been having. It explains the paranoia, the self-loathing, the feelings of guilt.

Half-an-hour ago, Dr. Raj landed his helicopter in the back garden and came rushing into the house, his medical bag clutched in his hands and a steely look of determination on his face. Ten minutes later, he was operating.

‘This,’ he said, holding the bug up between his tweezers, ‘this is a Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite. A nasty critter that burrows into the skull and injects its toxic serum directly into the brain, causing the host to doubt his own sanity and wonder who he is.’

At this point Judy fainted.

‘The thing is,’ said Dr. Raj, who knows Judy well enough to barely bat an eyelid, ‘you have to remember who you are and begin to live your life as though the last few days never happened.’

‘A Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite?’ I pondered. ‘You know, I bet I caught that from that batch of Jamaican ginger cake Judy’s aunt Polly sent over the other week. I remember sticking a piece of it behind my ear while I held the ladder while Judy climbed on roof to fix the shingles.’

He slapped me across the face. ‘Tell me who you are.’

‘I’m Richard,’ I said.

He slapped me again. ‘Richard?’

‘Richard Madeley!’

‘You’re not an imposter then?’

‘Hardly. Could an imposter do this?’ I asked and proceeded to grab my big toe between my teeth and expose my groin as I do often do for the world to see at five o’clock every weekday on Channel 4.

‘Well, that’s it,’ said Raj with a salute and a wink. ‘Another case closed. Have to dash, I’m spending the afternoon helping Jordan overcome low self-esteem.’

‘Might that be another case of a Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite?’ I asked.

Raj looked at me. ‘Stick at what you’re good at Richard,’ he said as he swept a curl of hair from his brow. ‘Leave the diagnosis for those of us trained to diagnose.’

So, that explains everything. This Jamaican seraphalonic ear mite explains why I’ve had the feeling that people are talking about me. It explains why I’ve been not feeling myself.

And in honour of my recently departed parasite, I thought I’d give you some other famous cases of insect infestations. Such as the worm that taught Les Denis everything he knows about comedy. You didn’t know that? The year was 1978 and Les was an unknown working in men’s nightclubs across the north. He wasn’t particularly funny and thought he’d reached a career high supporting the new comedy star, Jimmy Cricket. A holiday in the Zambia and he came back a different man and the comedy god we know and love today. And all because of the zootzoot worm which had made a home in Les’ right ankle.

Did you know that Bo Derek’s much heralded beauty can be attributed to an allergic reaction to a ladybird? Or that Robbie Coltrain plays host to a colony of termites? More facts tomorrow.

And please: remember to check yourself for Jamaican seraphalonic ear mites.

The Upside of Death

I seem to have put my foot in it again.

I don’t know if you caught last night’s show but I happened to let slip that all the bathrooms are ‘lock free’ in the Madeley household. I didn’t think it was that big a thing when this factoid slipped out. We have no secrets in our house and many a time I’ve been caught steeping out of the shower with my… well, let’s just say 'with little Richard hanging out with his friends, little Fred and slightly bigger Raj'. I’m not ashamed that you all know this. It's just one of those small inconveniences I’m more than happy to live with, so long as Judy has peace of mind.

Only don't get me wrong. Judy's not one of the millions who suffer from coprophobia or anything like that. No, Judy just doesn't like confined spaces. It's something about being trapped in a small room with sanitary products. And who can blame her? My heart quickens apace whenever I'm in close proximity to a toilet duck.

TNo, the way I see it, having no locks on our bathroom doors makes it a win win situation for Judy. It makes her feel safe in her own home while also maximising the chances that she’s going to catch a certain handsome co-presenter naked in the shower or sat bare arsed reading the latest issue of Nuts magazine. Yet despite these benefits, Judy's fear did get me thinking. Is it really the fear of confinement that worries Judy? Or, as any good psychologist (or even Dr Raj Persaud) will tell you, is it the fear of death?

I reached this level of enlightenment yesterday afternoon when she told me in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t allow a certain man of infinite foregiveness become a Richard & Judy bookclub author unless he cheers up and write about something more uplifting than death. She suggested a ‘nice upbeat book Afghan amputees learning to tap dance’ but I wasn’t so sure. It convinced me that I needed to prove something to Judy. I need to prove that there’s an upside to the afterlife.

Death can be a funny business. There’s something quite Buddhist about it. It's like we're lumps of animated clay stuck in a warehouse fire at Aardman Animations. One moment we’re Gromit’s leg leg and, the next, we’ve been reincarnated as a turtle’s sweatband in an advert for British Gas. And that’s the message I wanted to send to Judy. There are positives in death, if only you look for them.

The way I see it, death means ear wax is no longer a problem. Pretty much all problems of grooming fade away on the other side of death. You don’t even need to buy grooming products, though who can say no to Vidal Sassoon latest range of anti-worm products to help protect your skin through the afterlife?

'Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful'. John Donne might also have added helpful and timely. What greater excuse could you have for escaping a birthday bash held for your distant cousin JWH Madeley. In fact, mortality brings with it its own rewards: it’s an excuse for tardiness, a reason to lie in past noon, and you no longer feel bad about the planet. You are the planet.

You can be rude to whoever you like when you’re dead. And, let’s face it: you’re going to be rude to just about everybody. You don’t write, you never call. You don’t even answer when somebody asks you a question. In a way, it’s like becoming a Jehovah’s Witness but without the legwork.

You can grow a beard when you’re dead. Actually, you won’t be able to help it. Unless you’re Russ Abbot, your hair will continue to sprout long after you’ve ceased to be. This explains the prolonged career of Jimmy Savile and his current appearance. He’s been dead since 1983.

Death has a small carbon footprint so Al Gore won't complain. Unless, of course, you're cremated. In which case, take it from me: you're much better off being asked to be buried in a grow bag with a tomato seed stuck up your ass.

Death makes you down with the kids. How much more hip can you be with a white face and long solemn silences? If that's not Goth, what is?

As soon as I’m made this little list, I decided to present it to Judy. That's another advantage of having no locks on the bathroom doors. We can tell people good news as soon as we have it. Only, I think she wasn’t that interested. I’ve now backed out of the bathroom and I’m waiting until she’d finished. In the meantime, how about some morbid factoids to cheer us up?

Did you know that Suggs from Madness collects funeral director’s top hats? Or that Ealing has the highest mortality rate among mimes than the rest of the country? And did you know that when a mime dies, they're buried in a glass coffin?

Did you know that more people die exercising in a gym than eating doughnuts in a cafe? That waxed moustaches can prolong a man’s life by up to five years? It’s a scientific fact.

And did you know that to the Japanese, the colour white represents death and this is why there are no professional Japanese tennis players?

The Quality Of Me

Like most things, it began with an itch. Call it a chance to rage against the machine. But I never thought people would really, sincerely, honestly believe. People are perceptive. I hoped that the people I write for understand the game. It was all too silly to be true. Yet some still believed. Is that bad? Is it good? Is it that just that people want to believe in something so outrageously silly that it has to be true?

Perhaps reality isn’t as acute as they wish it to be and that we all live in the hope that life is really caricature.

But that’s not life. Just to make that clear.

So, if you laughed before, I hope you’ll laugh again.

Or does it all change when celebrity is taken out of the equation? Is fame the only thing that matters? Discuss.