"I SAW A MAN WHO DANCED WITH HIS WIFE"!

Exciting weekend just gone as we went to a swanky "do"!

Dark Lady the Dark Stepchildren and I are not much for red carpets. Cocktail parties with People called Hengist or Pookie. We much prefer the simple life. Maybe a trip to the cinema. An average priced meal out or sitting at home watching the telly.

So we were very chuffed to receive an invitation to a castle!

Good friends of ours Martin and Julie were celebrating ten years of wedded bliss. So had decided to re-enact part of the big day by having a bit of a rematch at a marvellous Victorian folly in Herefordshire.

All we had to do was to get ourselves out to Ledbury where we booked into a rather fine coaching in called "The Feathers" which was very similar to our own wedding reception venue back in 2010 "The Mermaid" in Rye.

First we had to round up "the tribe".  They were staying with their Dad so DL and I had a very relaxing Friday  with a trip to a burger bar and the cinema to watch "August: Osage County" which was fabulous and I'm sure every family could identify even if only slightly with the horror of the family gathering as it unfolded in the film  Meryl Streep was as wonderful as ever and Julia Roberts was brilliant/ghastly too.

I had something to do first thing Saturday so we had to go I separate cars.  What I can never understand is that two sat navs programmed with the same address can take two cars in different directions. Although one thing is never in doubt. The Dark Lady will always arrive first!

It was going to be a dressy night so I dug out my wedding jacket and the DL poured herself into a long sheer black number (he slobbered). Ella at nearly eighteen and taller than both of us elected to wear heels and so towered over most of the male company of a similar age who were checking her out and trying to screw up enough courage to ask her to dance.

Jamie now 14 and buff after long hours in the gym receiving admiring glances from the younger end of the guest spectrum disappeared from view from time to time. The reason becoming apparent later on.




We got a cab to the castle and it was a fabulous venue. Huge vaulted ceiling in the massive hall where champagne awaited. I had already fallen in with bad  company back at the hotel. As my mate Steve Evans the truck driver who is built from boulders had already been testing the bar. So it would have been impolite not to have kept him company.

Whilst we were chucking back the champagne. We perused the wedding photos from a decade before.  I'd forgotten my glasses so couldn't really see. Everyone looked pretty much as they did today. Although two additions were Martin and Julie's 8 year old son Jack who has the energy of several so was whizzing around examining everything.  Well it was a fascinating place with cases full of stuffed animals and suits of armour among other interesting bits.  The other addition being me. I'd not had the good fortune to have met all these folk back in 2004.

Then there was food. Lots of it and delightful. We were on a table with our closest friends so conversation was easy and as entertaining as always.

Martin judging the mood perfectly made a short speech and as he is a demon quiz compiler informed us that there wouldn't be one as there was fooding and drinking and dancing to do.

So we did just that. We drank and we danced.  I've lost about half a stone since Christmas so felt rather more agile. (ie less lumbering) so was busting my best moves much to Ella's amusement. Dark Lady was very kind and held me close.

Jamie appeared on the dance floor from time to time. Swayed in time to the music and then wandered off.

Due to the volume of the music and my rather sensitive old ears. I elected to fashion earplugs from "bathroom stationary". That way I could enjoy it without discomfort.  I may have looked a mite strange. However I'm used to appearing a buffoon so there was no change there.

All too soon it was time to go. We gathered everyone together as the minibus arrived to take us back to the hotel......where was Jamie?

Ah there he was....being rather ill. So that's why he kept disappearing. He had found a secret stash of booze and was doing what kids do. Trying it all out. Without realising the consequences.

I drove a rather pale and nauseous young man back to London the following morning.

He had received the stern lecture from his Mother, a stern lecture from his Victorian Stepfather (me) and was about enjoy a third one from his Dad when he got home.

It was difficult to keep a straight face when I recalled my wallet being confiscated by my mother at a beach barbecue in Majorca when I decided that it would be a good wheeze to have a gin drinking competition with another teen......I was 14!

GERTCHA!

Well 2014 seemed to be progressing fairly well at Lester Towers. (Or "Lester Acres". We fab poptastic DJs have to refer to where we live in such terms as enshrined in the Wunnerful Radio 1 charter of 1967).

January is typical a time of attempts at organisation. Plans to be made and sadly big bills.

I think some years ago in a misguided attempt at efficiency I decided it would be a terrific wheeze to ensure that all the bills came at once. Car tax. Insurance. House contents. Building insurance. Subscriptions. And of course tax. This would be all out of the way in one fell swoop.

Then the rest of the year would be one of relaxation and frivolity.

I of course didn't factor in the total of all these bills arriving at once. When they are added together they form one gigantic humungous enormous whopper of a sum that means you have to sit indoors in the dark for the next three months living off a thin gruel.

(Before I'm leapt upon by the pinched mouthed "what about the starving"? brigade. Wagging reproving fingers in my direction  I would like to point out that I'm not equating my predicament with those who are suffering real hardship. So stand down keyboard warriors.)

The advantage of enforced time spent indoors rather than being out whooping it up. As much as the Dark Lady and I whoop it up. I reckon the Dark Step-children think we must sit on the sofa all day watching TV. One day I'm going to leave shattered underwear. Sundry apparatus. Bottles of Yak milk. Root vegetables  and a startled Walrus around the house and see what they make of that!

They'd probably immediately decamp to live full time with their Father. Traumatised and unable to watch a wildlife programme or Nigella ever again.

Oops digression. As i was saying. Staying in does have its advantages. The DL has become a dab hand at making soup. I have started filing CDs once more. In so doing am beginning to see what colour the carpet it is in the spare bedroom. I can also listen to a lot more music as well so choosing tracks to play on the show reinforces what a pleasure it is.

The house is tidier than it has been for ages. Plans are being hatched to get rid of a lot of unwanted clutter. After all I'm not entirely sure why I have bank statements going back to 1988 in the attic along with copies of "Waterways World" and "Canal and Riverboat Monthly" from the late 70s. Not sure my trusty Amstrad 9526 is going to see any use again either.

The local dump has been remodelled and upgraded so it's now possible to load up the car with junk and whip in and out and recycle lots of stuff which would otherwise end up as landfill. So it polishes my eco-credentials. This makes me feel marginally better when I'm in London at a posh restaurant eating Panda burger in Snow Leopard sauce.

On the subject of cars. As well as insurance and tax in January I'd artfully arranged for its MOT to take place in the first month of the year. Oh well fingers crossed it has been looked after so hopefully it wouldn't fail.  It sailed through. The only fly in the motoring ointment was the necessity to buy a new tyre having had a puncture the day before the test which totalled the tyre which was replaced at the previous MOT. Six thousand miles ago.

Still it never rains but it pours eh?

Oh which reminds me. As I was filing CDs. I noticed a damp patch on the ceiling. Yup you guessed. The roof needs repair.

Looks like the diet of gruel will last until Easter at least.

BACK 'OME

Xmas came and went in a satisfying blur of overeating and gifts. As usual I went to see my Sister and Brother in law,.who provided another spectacular lunch. Dad brought the wine and I was on cheese and biscuits duty.  Thank you. 

When I was a child my parents would look in as we kids tore the paper from our gifts.  Now years later and not before time my Father gets the lions share and we watch as he tears the paper off

Although at 87 he does say what he really wants for Xmas is; "someone to come round and take stuff away"! 

Returning to London and the bazoom of the family I got the gifts including a rather fine jacket which I've had to take to be altered as being rather er short. The arms made me look like Mr Tickle according to my step son Jamie

We had the best time and the Dark Lady is enjoying her new bicycle.
 
A thoroughly good time was had by one and all.  Only one day off over the festive season. Although I did get a lie in of an hour and an extra half hour tacked on the end of the shoe. Which was fun. However all good things come to an end and we are now back to abnormal!

So 2014 is now well and truly underway and everyone has crept back to work or their previous routine. People are making wild and exaggerated claims as to what they are going to do over the next 12 months. This is definitely the year they are going to do it. Whatever "IT" may be.

Rather then widdle on your firework. How realistic are we with our plans for a new year and why do we wait until an arbitrary date on the calendar to put these often futile "plans" into practise?

Why not have resolutions starting on the 18th March or 27 August?

This may have something to do with my lack of understanding of the calendar. After all this is the man who on Xmas day writing a cheque at a petrol station had to ask what the date was. This is the man who assumed that late May/early June it was summer everywhere. As he froze in sub zero temperatures in Yellowstone National Park ankle deep in snow in shorts and sandals waiting for the the Geyser Old Faithful to blow.

(Pedantry alert). Ok this may be general geographic ignorance rather than the lack of grasp of dates. Although I think there may be a tenuous relationship between the two.

At this time of the year. Newspapers, magazines. TV and radio stations are asking for "resolutions" as an easy way to fill their products. Followed by a deluge of people telling us their resolution is not to have resolutions (snirk snirk)!

We know you are better than that on the Best Time of the Day Show. Judging by your responses to the things we throw at you each morning. I have a sneaking suspicion people in the entertainment industry sit with their notebooks jotting down your best bits to use in their acts.

So what do I think of the turn of a year? It is a time to look forward with optimism.

2013 wasn't the best year I've enjoyed due to the death of my dearest friend and the resulting fall out with helping to sort out his estate. (Note. If possible don't die. It can be very complicated for those you leave behind).

It took rather a lot of time and energy and so a lot of other things had to be put on the back burner. So all being well things will go better this year.

If 2013  taught me one thing is that we all hang by a thread and we have to seize the moment. We need to have as much fun as we can. I'm very fortunate in having a job that qualifies as fun so half the battle is over before I start.

So if you make any pledges for 2014 perhaps it is to have more fun.

What constitutes fun though?  Does it have to be rip snorting side holding hyperventilating food coming down your nose guffawing. Or something simple that gives you pleasure. Or maybe must something very simple that gives you satisfaction.

This can be done in many ways. Not all expensive. Nor involving huge amounts of equipment.


Let your imagination run riot. Stroke the cat. A cup of coffee on the settee. A conversation with friends. Zumba. (Not sure if this qualifies as fun but some swear by it)! A walk?

Does this sound amusing?

Well it's certainly economical.  So that in itself should give us pleasure.

Re-reading the above I do realise that this is a rather poorly argued blog and if we were defending ourselves in court with an alibi this weak we'd probably end up in prison doing 100 years to life!

However I am going to try and not let little things get to me this year.

So traffic jams will not make me fume.

I promise not to get frustrated with people who stop at the top of escalators blocking your exit as they stare vacantly into space.

Will try not to explode when I hear smug self satisfied politicians talking in cliches:

"Hard working families"

(We aren't stupid. We know your spin doctors are telling you to get this into every interview).

Although that may be a bit of a tricky one to maintain.

And I will smile at 1am weekday mornings when the alarm goes off as I know that I'm about to have some fun.

Hmmm I have a sneaking suspicion that the above looks a tad like resolutions.

DOH!

Happy New Year.

THIS OLE HOUSE

Having outlined in a previous blog the angst, effort, strain and general appalling hardship of clearing my garage.... I've suffered a little setback.

It took ages and two strong men to remove a selection of unwanted items and general accretions of rubbish to make my garage fit for my car once more.  The Dark Lady was suitably impressed and had not been pushing for me to clear realising that all this junk was to her husband "heirlooms in the making".  Also cannily and kindly realising that many of these items of immense personal value predated her by thirty years.

This "junk" was in my genes. It could only be separated from its owner when the owner realised that it needed to be given the old heave-ho.

So suddenly one day without prompting (I think)  I realised this and decided a big clear out was necessary.

Having waved goodbye to my most treasured rubbish I delightedly and somewhat belatedly realised that I was free! There was hardly anything left in there.

As you know if you've been following the blog and by some of the comments I've made on the show. 2013 hasn't been the best year from a personal point of view. Losing my Sister in Law and my best friend Clive.

I've spent the last five months helping to organise his affairs. Whilst his parents had the sad task of doing most of the donkey work. I helped with clearing his house. I've known him since we were students and he was always untidy. However over the years he did start to hoard stuff. So there were printers. Computers. Fax machines. Files. Magazines. Going back years.

It is heartbreaking going through someone's personal belongings and trying to decide what should stay and what should go.

Would his parents want his school books?

Who would want his wonderfully accurate caricatures of our college lecturers from 1975?

I struggled with this for a long time and took car loads of redundant technology to be recycled.

What about the remaining furniture?

A house clearance man offered us £100 for it.

"Not the piano"

?

"There's no market for pianos. They are very heavy and take up too much room. Look at the Internet. It's full of people wanting to get rid of them.

"Do you want to take it away"? I asked.

"£100!" he replied

Hmmmm it needed work. Had not been played in fifteen years and some mice had been nesting in it. So no charity wanted it either.

Then the solicitor got in touch to inform me that the house had to be cleared as the new owners wanted to take over.

There was still a lot of stuff left that needed sorting. What to do? Time was awastin'.

BULB!

A solution!

My garage is now filled with more stuff than I had before......and a piano!

On a happier note we've had family fun. My step-daughter Ella appeared in a school production of "Hairspray" she has a terrific singing voice so was one of the three backing singers. Although as she didn't have a speaking role one of her friends suggested it was the equivalent of playing a tree. We all went to the show and it was absolutely tremendous. The principles were spectacular and apart from the odd fluffed line it would have put many adult am dram shows to shame.

To see her bubbling with excitement after the show was a delight to witness.

For the first time since I moved in in 1999, my house has seen a Christmas tree. The Dark Lady loves the festive season so I have given her carte blanche to do what she likes.  Normally I've just put up the cards and forgotten about it.  Not this time. We have a tree. We have fairy lights. We have a wreath on the front door. I will freely admit the house is much improved as a result . Although the wreath thing....Well that  nearly ended in a tiff:

It was to be fixed with a ribbon attached to the top of the door.

"Have you got any drawing pins?" she trilled prettily as we were out shopping for gew gaws.

"Yes"

"Are you sure"?

"Perfectly"

"We don't want to have to go back out again if you haven't".

"We'll be fine"

"You absolutely sure you have the drawing pins"?

"YESSSSSSSS"!!!!

"No need to shout."

When we returned home. The DL set to sorting out the ribbon and the wreath. I went to fetch the drawing pins.

There then ensued several minutes of frantic searching.

Followed by even more minutes of frantic searching.

Followed by hoots of derisive laughter by a certain wife type person.

At last I found one rusty and generally bent drawing pin at the bottom of a vase.

The wreath is now on the door. Calm has been restored and I just need to put everything back in its proper place again as the house is now as untidy as my garage.

This will be last blog of 2013. So may I take this opportunity to wish you a very Happy Christmas and all the very best for 2014. I hope it will be a happy and healthy one for us all.

THIS IS THE WAY WE CLEAN THE HOUSE

And on the seventh day he rested. So we were told in Bible class.  Back then as a small child I wondered what God was up to on that first Sunday. Was he, (or let's face it possibly she? I'm not wedded to God being a bloke), a bit bored? 

As presumably there was just rolling countryside. Gambolling animals including a rather pesky serpent and Adam and Eve hanging about. There just weren't enough folk around to go and visit. Not enough 'hood' to hang in.

Nor were there enough to make up a football team. Although by then with a rather sparse population of, err, two. If they were going to do some sport it would have had to have been strictly amateur as there wouldn't have been enough population  for spectators. Let alone referees. linesmen. Commentators. Pundits and 'Gaffers'.

In fact Gaffers may have vexed God a little as these red faced chaps in sheepskin coats sitting on the sidelines furiously chewing gum, spitting, gesticulating and yelling oaths probably thought they were gods. So it would have been silly to invent competition so early after creation.

This is why I think he/she - for want of something better to do - decided to create something which would give his flock something to do. Something that would keep us occupied. Also something he/she would gain endless pleasure from watching us battle it.

To this end God created....STUFF!

Stuff is the all encompassing term to describe what fills our homes. Sheds. Cars. Pockets and by default heads.  It is rarely useful. Takes up a lot of room. Costs a lot of money initially although it suffers catastrophic depreciation and is generally a menace as well as an addiction.

It needs to be tackled. It needs to be kept in check and it is doubtless an instrument of the devil!

I had a week off the other week and decided the time was ripe for "de cluttering".  This is a posh marketing term for throwing stuff away. Which is brought to you by the same people pretty much who want to sell you more stuff that you will eventually have to throw away as well. The cycle continues indefinitely. It is a visible form of perpetual motion.

Stuff comes in a variety of categories:

'Broken Stuff'.

However it could come in useful for spare parts if other similar stuff breaks.

'Old Stuff.'

Not broken but may be useful one day although we know in our heart of hearts this is untrue.

'Obsolete Stuff.'

State of the art when new. By the time you got it home from the shop the then perpetual cycle of stuff had rendered it worthless and hopelessly old fashioned. So much so. No one would be seen dead with it in the continual battle that is keeping up with the Jones's stuff.

'Older Stuff.'

Stuff we think may be valuable one day although we know from the Antiques Roadshow this is a lie. We get more than a little glee from watching dejected people shuffle away having been told their prized Victorian wotnot was only worth pence as it was a poor and damaged example of stuff that everyone had back in the day. Which back then would have fitted into one of the first two groups I've outlined anyway.

'Sentimental Stuff.'

This is the worst category as it is very often rubbish to start with. Your children's hand prints as infants. Their terrible "drorings" of Mummy and Daddy that were stuck with such pride to the family fridge.....hang on you didn't chuck the old fridge for the new big American two door model did you? That was the kids first fridge. You should have kept it for sentimental reasons!

Concert tickets. Birthday and Xmas cards. Menus from long forgotten meals. Bits of ribbon from weddings. A lock of hair....from you....no you....no it was Jessica the first born....or was it Jemima?  No it was from Barney the family Labrador. He's been in dog heaven twenty years now. Still we have his paw print and his old collar still. 

Pernicious isn't it?

To this end and to try and break the cycle. During my week off I was going to get rid of masses of stuff in my garage. Not sure at what point God decided to create the garage but it has little to do with the invention of the internal combustion engine. Garages were built as a receptacle for our ever growing piles of stuff. The car just had to sit outside and stare at the bulging doors. Knowing it was unlikely to get a sniff of the inside.

So I set to clearing my stuff mountain.  Most. If not all ticking the above boxes:

A burnt out vacuum cleaner from the late 1950's.  That could be worth something one day.

WRONG.

Vacuum cleaners were an everyday household item by then. Pristine and unused maybe. Charred and rusty. It's landfill.

Televisions. Some working. Others not. Six in total including a 12" black and white portable from the mid 80's. Also a flat screen TV. The downside being it was attached to a huge box that vibrated alarmingly of the volume was ever turned up beyond a whisper.  Probably worthy few quid second hand.

WRONG.

There are thousands of them out there. The stuff cycle is ensuring that everyone is doing exactly the same as me and upgrading to a bigger screen in a thinner box.

Boxes and boxes of books. Mostly paperbacks. Well a few pence at a second hand bookstore or failing that a charity shop would welcome them I would have thought.

WRONG

Books about tranquilliser use in the 1980s. The 1977 Good Beer Guide and The National Trust Property guide 1992 are no use to anyone but the author. "Fly fishing" by J.R Hartley at least had a comic purpose.  "Teach Yourself Word" - again having limited use unless you still happen to have an old Amstrad word processor knocking around. Er actually I do. See sentimental above. I wrote many of my early scripts and features on that machine.  I got rid of loads. However I doubt I've broken the cycle.

 So to the final ignominy in the relentless stuff wheel. You buy it. Use it. Discard it. Store it. Then when you have enough of it. You have to pay a man with a van to cart it away.  It's will the be recycled somehow and turned into new stuff that you will buy etc.  Live long enough and some bits of the stuff could have visited your place several times on one form or another by the time your done!

Your car parked sadly outside could once have been Auntie Gertie's  mangle.

"If only we'd kept that old washing aid....it would be worth a fortune......"

STOP IT.........NOW!

VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR

When I started in this industry back in 1977..... This feels like only yesterday incidentally. Probably as my father marrying my Mum back in 1951 feels to him. Although my photographs are in colour and his are black and white.

This passage of time is interesting to me as many of the people I worked with at the start of my career were from a romantic and nostalgic period in broadcasting. People who had been part of the BBC's Western Region. Or the Home, the Light and the Third.



As I have mentioned in previous blogs I even met Marconi's widow. Without him there would have been no radio....although where we are now I dare say someone else would have had to have invented it at some point.

So what is the point I am trying to make?  Am I going down the dinosaur route to rail against modern radio?

Just as elderly comedians who are no longer 'box office' gripe about the new generation of comics: How many times have you heard a slightly bitter old stand up interviewed. The sort who tells us:

"We didn't need to use bad language like they do now. We told jokes that the whole family could enjoy"!

Hmmmm you are forgetting that things move on and some of those good old gags from my 60's and 70's youth involved a lot more pernicious stuff than a few rude words.


"Irishman goes into a pub and.....my mate Chalky......Bengal Lancers"!

Oops... as usual diverting onto a soapbox there.

So how have things changed over the years? Obviously the technology.



I played vinyl and the occasional 78rpm disc when I was a boy broadcaster.  Then along came CDs.  This was a huge leap as for the first time you couldn't see which tracks you were playing. Oddly this was harder to grasp than the move from CD to the current incarnation: The computer hard drive.

Maybe it's a side effect if age but things are now moving a lot faster.

Shortly after the hard drive came the studio web cam. Then the email. Then the Twitter and Facebook. All have made interaction with you so much more instant and simple. It has changed the way the programme works. In the old days you'd throw a few ideas out and wait a couple of days and see what the post brought in. Now with the Internet you responses are waiting for us when we arrive in the morning.

So what is next?  Well pictures on the radio.  We started with a few snaps for the website. These became more sophisticated in terms of their execution rather than their subject matter. Now we're moving forward to video. Check out my page on the Radio 2 website for examples!

Since new producer Kid Methuselah has happened on the scene we've been planning our assault on the world not only by the daily stupidity that is the Best Time of the Day Show but also how we can add extra fun to the mix.

As 'The Kid' is from the commercial radio world, he would term it 'adding value to the brand'. And with tongue firmly in cheek - citing some of the nonsense he's heard senior management types utter over the years - "benchmark items we can cascade to the listener through regular idea showers".

It is going to take some time but we hope to wean him off such terrible jargon!



So we are now making our own films. So far I've danced to your own choreography. I've accidentally slaughtered Janice Long and Sara Cox as "Daft Vader" and in the latest video, I'm taking on the role of a sort of hairy Superman!



We are having a lot of fun making them and we see them as an add-on to the radio show. Expect it to develop as time goes on. How far will it go? I've no idea but if it helps to close the gap between the media pash on all things 'TeeVee' and us plodders on the Senior Service; the wireless. That to me can only be a good thing.

In the words of Kid Methuselah: "Lets pop it in their mental microwave and see if it goes ping"!

WHO YA GONNA CALL?

It's just been that time of the year.  The time of the year that until recently we didn't bother about. Now thanks to our special relationship with our American cousins. It has nearly eclipsed our traditional day at this time.

Not sure when it started to seep into the British consciousness but it has.

As a kid, there was the one special event after summer and before Christmas; Guy Fawkes Night.

We looked forward to it and planned for it. We saved for sparklers and those matches that glowed green or red when lit.  We weren't allowed to buy fireworks although we tried.  Some older kids succeeded and often blew themselves up.

When I first started in local radio amid the record requests. Chemists rotas and lost pets there was the annual visit from the local fire chief to warn us of the dangers of fireworks.  Do they still do that?

Children would hijack the family pushchair and wheel around a baggy shapeless selection of old clothing stuffed with newspaper with a cheap mask or maybe even some paper mâché creation to make a head. Then they would drag this thing round the streets trying to elicit donations.

"Penny for the guy mister"

Last time this question was posed must have been about 20 years ago coming out of a pub in Hastings Old Town.

"He's drunk"

"No I'm not" I said indignantly!

"Not you. Him." They said pointing to a bag of rags on the pavement which I can only assume was meant to resemble a guy.  Obviously  creativity was beginning to suffer at this point so the energy had gone from the event.

So at some point Halloween struck.  Perhaps like St Patricks Day which seems to be a marketing exercise for Guinness. It would appear Halloween makes bigger bucks. What with all the ghoulish clothing and the pumpkins.

In fact I was dispatched by the Dark Lady to go get a pumpkin so my Step daughter Ella could fashion something eek worthy for the fright night.
 

About this time the call came through.  Would I like to present an edition of Friday Night is Music Night?  Would I?!

This is a piece of broadcasting legend and history. Who could turn down the offer of standing in front of a packed theatre audience. With an 80 piece orchestra ready to go?

So given the notes and the list of tunes I set to to write the script.

Often the show is live. On this occasion it was recorded as live the evening before. However still at the same time.

We made a special video to mark the event:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01km03c

It was decided by Bridget Apps the Producer that I would do the call and response for "Ghostbusters".  During the rehearsal it became apparent that I just had no sense of rhythm. A tin ear and despite having heard the song a zillion times. I couldn't figure out which bit was mine!

"Who ya gonna bust......er who's callin yer.......um who you gonna callbust"?

So Robert Zeigler the conductor kindly agreed to poke his baton on my direction. When a ghostly ejaculation was called for.

Being all ham. I decided that a costume was necessary so rushed to the pound shop and bought a cape. Fangs. Fake blood and white pancake makeup.

A listener had kindly given me another cape so I was able to change during the interval as well as applying liberal amounts of fake gore.

Not sure about the audience but I has the best time. Although I did have to remove the fangs as they made my speech so muffled I wasn't able to be understood.

I like to think that it went pretty well. There were a couple of retakes. Only one was my fault and that was because I had forgotten to introduce myself.

It was a rip snorter of a show however I think Halloween has the upper hand. I also have a sneaking suspicion that in a generation or less Guy Fawkes Night will be all but forgotten sadly.

Caroline - an American listener - emailed and asked:

"When you gonna give up on this Guy guy? It's years ago. Get over it".

I replied with my usual British reserve and dignity:

"When you stop celebrating Thanksgiving and Independence Day."!