Spent an hour yesterday afternoon doing local radio circuit punditry about Oliver Postgate. Because I was asked, because I'd spoken to him on the phone a couple of times, and because it was an honour, etc.
At the end of an hour sat in a cubicle in Millbank I realised my flies had been undone the entire time. There's some kind of John Barrowman link there, isn't there?
1 comment:
only if a webcam, some crusty old bloke and a whole load of members of the public, who never listened to the program, are involved
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