Not taken a traffic cone. Have walked into a lampost though (AKA an intro to 'The Film Show').

Having spent the hottest day of the year so far in a small studio with no air-conditioning to record introductions to some year-old radio footage, you would think that I would leap at the chance to go outside and enjoy the sunshine whilst it lasts, but no. It turns out I’m exactly the sort of recluse who can lock himself away for hours on end, only really going out for sustenance and socialising. However, it wasn’t really a case of suffering for my art (indeed, if intentionally being antisocial can be classified as suffering, we might want to redefine the word) as I enjoyed the work and it means that the world can finally hear the classic comic commentary of The Film Show. What is this show and why am I so keen to get it out in the public domain? Well, what follows is some sort of explanation…

University is, famously, an environment in which to experiment. For some, this means trying out substances, confirming their sexual preferences, or finding out exactly how many pints it takes before you steal a traffic cone. For me though, it’s been the perfect place to try out different things creatively. Consequently, in little over two years, I’ve performed stand-up, written several tiny plays and monologues, directed my own audio version of A Christmas Carol, acted in pieces at the local Theatre Royal, put on sketches for a Jubilee street party, become one of the founding members of a flash fiction group, and hosted my own radio show all about films.

The latter came about through my joining the radio society with the intention of collaborating on a regular sketch show. Almost immediately, this fell through, and I became part of a panel show that went through various incarnations until it too was, like beers in a six pack, canned.  It was only when I pitched the idea of a review feature on films that I ended up with a vehicle that would last for six glorious practise episodes until, regrettably, multiple other commitments (including several of those in my extensive list above) meant that we never had the time to broadcast live.

But what a fantastic set of six it was! From episode one, the basic format was more or less in place. Every episode, I would lead a series of discussions with comedy night M.C., James, and (soon-to-be) fellow Flashnificent, Chris*, around a set classic film, such as Die Hard or Spiderman**, before discussing more topical stuff such as interesting new trailers, the latest box office top ten, and whether there should officially only be three Indiana Jones films. Off this loose structure, we frequently span off into fantastical tangents which would continue until we realised we were straying too far from the original topic (episode five is notable in that a show provisionally about The King’s Speech somehow sees our discussions repeatedly lead to talk of Liam Neeson) and hastily cut to a song in order to refocus.

You will find no such songs in the podcast version of The Film Show however as very few people would rather hear the Foo Fighters instead of a  conversation about Batman (again, a topic that bizarrely cropped up with remarkable regularity in the King’s Speech show). Plus, with them included in the programme, some episodes would be up to two hours long, and nobody wants to listen to something as lengthy as eight editions of The Archers***.

Also notably absent from these edited audio treasures is any nuggets of information that would overtly identify either the university or the society radio station (the latter of which is, as of time of writing, still running****). This is not in any way to disassociate the podcasts from these institutions that provided a home for such a show; it’s just a way to ensure that their reputation isn’t muddied by a couple of blokes who are perfectly content to talk about Liam Neeson for an hour and a half.

Unless someone tries to sue us for libel.

In which case, it was -

*Incidentally, our team came together when Chris told me that he’d disliked the host of our society fundraiser. That host was James. I mentioned we were doing a show together.  Chris said he'd be up for joining in. The rest is history – well, very minor little-reported history, that is. It’s not exactly going to make the next series by David Starkey or anything.

**Okay, so maybe I’m slightly stretching the meaning of the word ‘classic’…

***Similarly, no one would want to listen to The Archers if it lasted for two hours.

****Not that the university isn't still going. I just mean that the station and society hasn't since ceased to be or been shut down because somebody said 'sodding' whilst the mic was live.

At best, I find them mildly amusing.

Up until today, I had no idea what I was doing for Jubilee weekend - that is, until, I recieved this in the post:

Animals not to scale (I hope).

Of course! How better to mark sixty years of the queen's reign than by taking in some farmers and falcolnry for three days of good old-fashioned country fun? It's certainly not a patch on what her maj will be doing, no siree. Yes, she can keep her star-studded concert, new massive yacht, and piles of presents, because we've got ferret racing.

Yes, one of the attractions, amongst tractor demonstrations, puppets shows, and something called gundog scurries, is ferret racing. Wow. Whoever said new technologies had dulled our minds certainly was wrong, eh?

Mind you, that's not the most worrying amusement at this supposedly superb family day out. One particular image in this extensive leaflet appears to have been put in at random as it does not seem to correspond to any of the fun-filled activities listed below. See if you can spot it.

I've never flown a hawk before. I've ridden a plane though.

I am, of course, referring to this:

'Yep, that's, er, definitely a rabbit.'

What exactly is going on here? Are the 'fur and feather marquees', instead of being tents made of animal coats, set up for this sort of display? Did this vet (I'm hoping he's a vet, rather than just some bloke in a lab coat) bring the bunny, or do people take their pets to him to be identified? Is he in fact a butcher considering how long to cook the furry thing? This photo raises all sorts of questions without ever hinting at an answer.

That's not the best picture though. The award for most baffling image must go to this:

I have never seen someone so captivated by an angling demonstration. He must be faking it. Maybe he was promised sweets if he can make fishing appeal to his peers. Either way, I'm convinced - I'm booking my advanced ticket straight away.

As for the best line, well, that goes to a little phrase that convinces me that the editor was ensuring each section hit a certain word count. After all, why on earth would you make such an outrageous sweeping statement as...

If it's a TV show of a book however, judge it on its DVD cover.

The old adage goes that you should not judge a book by its cover, but what if that book was in fact a TV show? On what should you not base your ill-informed first impressions on then - its time slot? Its channel? The fact it stars that guy you really hated from that thing? Certainly, you could not write it off completely because of its title...

Yet I have done precisely that. Irrational as that sounds, I have been turned off (thus won't turn on) because some writer had the audacity to call their prime time drama Revenge.

Revenge, really? Sure, why come up with something clever when you can simply hit us over the head with your theme. After all, romcoms would be so much better if they were all called Love, wouldn't they? That way audiences would be reassured of a happy ending and some romance. No need to use superfluous flowery witty words when you can be blunt about it and just call a spade a spade, and a First World War movie, Fighting. Honestly, go right ahead and spell it out for us. Audiences really don't mind when you insult their intelligence, trust me.

Of course, all this may seem overly pedantic, but some of the best television titles are subtle, memorable, and occasionally very misleading. Only Fools And Horses, for example, whilst having fools in plentiful supply, did not feature any horses. Likewise, the protagonist of 24 is not a number, The Vicar of Dibley omits the then-unusual fact that the local member of the cloth was a woman, and The Big Bang Theory is as far removed from the series' actual premise as it is possible to be (indeed, episode titles only refer to minor events within that week's plot). In contrast, a title like Revenge sets viewers up to expect that most, if not all, of the storylines will be about someone seeking to get their own back or avenging a misdeed.

Also, who actually seeks revenge nowadays? It's such an old-fashioned thing to do. You will never see a personal ad in the newspaper that informs you that, due to a minor slight or blood feud, that someone is now out looking to get their vengeance. It doesn't happen. Then again, if I ever find the person who came up with that title...

The answers are of course 'don't be ridiculous, that's a stupid question', and 'yes, but only on Sundays'.

In a time when headlines about debt and despair dominate, it really would come as a huge surprise that someone didn't know the meaning of the word 'austerity'. However, a recent trend in Google searches suggests that the Americans have no clue - about the definition of 'austerity' that is, not in general.

Yes, apparently one of the most popular queries courtesy of our stateside cousins was 'what does austerity mean?'. This ignorance surely does not stem from a lack of education, but from the Yanks being used to having things so good. They have twenty-four hour malls, deep fried food by the bucketful, and walk amongst spray-tanned celebs - how can they possibly chuck in that lifestyle? After all, it would mean they'd have to, both figuratively and literally, considerably tighten their belts. For what must be the capitalism capital of the world, that's quite a big ask (which, incidentally, is the reason it's such a struggle for them to do up that belt).

Of course, what's slightly more worrying is that Google is now our first port of call for all knowledge. This is presumably because you can ask it anything without fear of judgement, hence why you frequently get the search bar suggesting outrageous questions such as whether you can get pregnant via your dog, and if rainbows taste of sugar. No wonder Ask Jeeves' Jeeves considered retirement.

I say this trend is worrying only because, thanks to several sci-fi films, I've learnt about the dangers of robots getting artificial intelligence. By feeding the Google machine our stupid questions, it's revealing where there is gaps in our knowledge. Once they've gained this invaluable information, they could choose which suggestions crop up when we are inputting our latest mystery. Instead of finding out what we wanted (say, the name of the pink Powerpuff Girl), we could be directed to links persuading us that a life under the rule of metallic overlords would be blissful, stress free, and only entail the odd bit of buffing. Before you know it, the whole population would be enslaved and forced to survive on a handful of DVD shrapnel a day, and nobody wants that. On the plus side though, it would certainly teach the Americans the meaning of austerity...

He also was a great Dane in 'Hammlette'.

Everyone knows the name of the tenth actor to play the eponymous Time Lord in Doctor Who, right? Because I was pretty sure that I knew the answer until I saw this in the review section of a magazine:

Of course, it's David Tennentt! How on earth could I forget that cheery national treasure with his distinctive quintessentially Scottish surname? Silly me.

Now, to be fair to the critic, it is a difficult job churning out reviews, especially if they take the form of a pithy paragraph in a free magazine you pick up in a pub, but surely turning on the ole spell check here wouldn't have taken a second of their time? After all, from the looks of it alone, you would be able to see that it doesn't look right. Come on, if you're unsure, just Google it!

I did. Turns out it's not, as I thought, 'Ten ant' (perhaps I'm a secret entomologist), but Tennant. That took all of five seconds and now I can be rest assured that my blog is free from embarrassing typooes. What a relief.