The other day I was listening to a new radio station that I can’t mention the name of.

Let’s just say if you took away the ‘K’ from the end of ‘Book’ and the ‘R’ from the start of ‘Room’ and its target audience are ‘Baby Boomers’, you’ll have some idea of the station I’m talking about even if you haven’t yet found it on your smart speaker.

By the way, Alexa’s been in my house for so long now, she lets me call her ‘Lexi’. But she still gets stroppy if I’m not keen on one of the songs she’s picked.

Whenever I ask “Lexi! Skip!”, there’s always a chilly pause before she replies sarcastically, “You’re the one who needs to lose weight, so why don’t you skip?  And then do 50 sit-ups, chubby!”

The new baby boomer radio station, which mainly (but not exclusively) plays hits from the 1950s to the 1970s has taken a while to be set-up

But! Coincidentally, it was launched around the time Radio 2 was criticised for playing less golden oldies and too many new releases.

Radio 2’s long-running Saturday lunchtime show “Pick Of The Pops” which plays top 20s from previous decades, hasn’t included a chart from the 1960s since last September.

So it’s no surprise that when the BBC admitted its daytime radio schedules were now being aimed at women in their 30s and 40s, many once-loyal listeners felt it was turning into an offshoot of Radio 1 – and looked elsewhere for their favourite music.

Personally, I like 80s and 90s hits as well as more recent stuff, but I understand that listeners who grew up listening to Billy Fury and Little Eva would rather hear them than Billie Eilish and Little Mix while going about their daily business or enjoying their morning coffee.

In this respect, BBC Radio Wales is well ahead of the game, because Owen Money has ruled Saturday and Sunday mornings for years, playing golden oldies and sharing information about many of the performers whose ‘discs he spins’, attracting a huge loyal audience.

Lexi! Play Owen Money please!

And put the kettle on while you’re at it.

Recently, I’ve discovered that the little things in life are having more meaning than they had previously.

On Sunday morning, I was eager to wake up early as I had a pre-arranged time slot at my local rubbish dump.

Despite the rain and wind, I had loaded the van up to the hilt on the day before keen to be on time ready and willing to partake in the ceremonial dumping of old carpets, cardboard, plastic, glass and wood.

I was on a mission and actually quite excited.  How times have changed!

But hang on, before you start thinking “how sad”, when I arrived at the dump, there was a queue of like-minded people in cars and vans full to the brim who had got there before me.

Everyone seemed to be smiling and greeting each other with a cheerful attitude.

It was just like a pre-arranged day trip.
People were genuinely pleased to see other humans outside of their bubble!

Anyway, Sunday afternoon I decided to put up some shelves under the stairs, but soon discovered that I was missing some timber and brackets.

I can’t help thinking that, during my excitement at loading the van, they might have made it to the rubbish dump that very same morning.

I’m regularly asked two questions. “Is there tremendous rivalry between comedians?”

And

“Have you had an accident in the last twelve months?”

My answer to the second question is unprintable.  But the first question’s easily answered in a story based around two entertainers who were big stars back in the day.

Naturally, their real names have been changed to prevent embarrassment…and legal problems.

Two young comedians – let’s call them Billy and Danny – start-out together, learning their craft in the same holiday camp.

As they gain experience, they audition for various television entertainment shows, but unfortunately Billy fails every time and misses-out on vital TV exposure.

Danny, however, passes every audition and appears on all the top entertainment shows – which in those days didn’t require a panel of ego-centric, air-headed judges telling performers they’d ‘nailed it!’

Danny’s star rises and he’s offered his own TV series, long summer seasons, prestige cabaret dates and the Royal Variety Performance.

Meanwhile Billy’s reduced to playing grim working-men’s clubs for peanuts and eventually goes bankrupt.

Walking past the Spa Theatre, Scarborough on his way to sign-on, he sees that Danny’s appearing there, goes around to the stage door and is ushered into Danny’s dressing room.

Danny isn’t too pleased to see Billy, refuses his request for a small loan to tide him over and confesses “I’ve become a selfish pig”

Five years later their positions have altered. Danny’s career has hit the skids and he’s struggling, while Billy’s slowly crawled his way back into the limelight and become a TV star with his own successful sitcom.

One night Billy is having a drink in a hotel bar, when a dishevelled Danny wanders up to him.  The forgiving Billy is so pleased to see his old pal he buys him drinks, takes him out to dinner and as they part, he slips a wad of notes into a grateful Danny’s pocket.

Seven years later, Billy’s sitcom has been cancelled, he’s broke, divorced and lives in a bed sit.

Danny’s career is on top again and he’s appearing at Billy’s local theatre for one-night.  Remembering how generous he’d been to Danny last time they’d met, Billy goes backstage in the hope he’ll reciprocate.

When he knocks on Danny’s dressing room door, Danny opens it, looks at Billy and says “Sorry mate. I’m a selfish pig again!” and slams the door in his face.

And there’s your answer…

Like a medieval court jester, unaware his audience left ages ago, I’m a ’fool’ to myself.  I’m watching the ITV breakfast show again.

It regularly features guests (on Zoom) railing against matters that most reasonable people don’t give a second thought to, but the guests consider so ‘unacceptable’ they ‘must be stopped/cancelled/destroyed’.

They say “We need to have a conversation about this”, but a conversation involves people listening to one another.  What they really want is to stridently put their point across without it being questioned.

One issue that often riles them is the ‘insultingly sexist’ use of the words MEN & WOMEN, MALE & FEMALE and HE & SHE.

Transvestite comedian Eddie Izzard, who has permanently swapped his designer suits for designer dresses, wants to be referred to as ‘She’ rather than ‘He’.  Although she possesses a brilliantly inventive, absurdist comedy mind, Eddie obviously doesn’t possess a mirror.  Otherwise, she’d realise that in women’s clothing she resembles a burly prop forward who’s mates persuaded him to wear one of his Mam’s old frocks on his stag night.

Sam Smith, the man who the police interviewed in connection with the murder of the theme song from the James Bond film “Spectre”, wants to be referred to as ‘They’.

That’s not a misprint.  Oops!

‘Mis’ print sounds slightly female.

Can’t have that!

I was taught that ‘They’ refers to more than one person rather than an individual, so presumably he, sorry, ‘They’ now takes up two car parking spaces at the supermarket where ‘They’ never think of buying single malt whiskey.

There are far too many people out there telling us we need to change our old-fashioned attitudes and accept a never-ending barrage of new rules in order to manoeuvre our way through the social minefield that each new day brings.
Isn’t life in 2021 exhausting enough?

I fear that in time, reasonable behaviour and common sense will be consigned to history along with the statues and reputations of British heroes currently regarded with contempt in some quarters.

And that future generations of Welsh choirs will be singing… “GENDER FLUID PERSONS OF HARLECH”

Has lockdown changed the way you will do things in the future?

Many local businesses, including pubs, restaurants and small independent retailers are closed, which means that we should be saving a fair bit of money due to the fact that we are unable to go out shopping.  But is this the case? Surprisingly not.

Many of us have now turned to the internet and it is now being reported that online sales have increased dramatically every month since March 2019.  Delivery drivers are working longer hours to cope with the demands that we have created.

This method of shopping has been vital to some at this time, but the frightening thing is that as we get used to this new way of doing things, will we ever go back to supporting local businesses when lockdown is over?

Sadly, many small shops and businesses in our communities will not survive, which will affect the lives of so many.  So, my question is this. Do we have a moral obligation to support by buying from the people around us?

Or should we move on and continue to spend with the bigger businesses that have been there for us over the past year?

Where do your values lie? I’d love to hear what you think….

I recently told you about my friend who’s started to consider the possibility he might have a Guardian Angel.

Previously, whenever life dealt him a bad hand, he maintained “If Guardian Angels exist, mine’s permanently hanging around the back of the building, puffing on a Woodbine!”

It was remembering the terrifying moment 30 odd years previously when he’d narrowly (miraculously?) avoided falling 20 feet onto concrete that made him wonder if ‘someone was watching over him’ that day.

He also recalled that in his younger days he’d narrowly escaped being knocked down by a car on a busy road.  Not once but twice!  In two different towns!

But it was his recollection of when he was the innocent victim of a belligerent bully who’d threatened to sue him for thousands of pounds that really made him think his Guardian Angel had given up smoking.

My friend, being an honest man and never having been in this sort of situation before, was frantic with worry.  For weeks he could barely eat, wandering around the house at night, unable to sleep and on the verge of a breakdown.

He became so desperate, one night he did something he hadn’t done since junior school.  He prayed.  For a life-long lapsed Catholic, this took some doing.

The very next day, out of the blue an old business associate he hadn’t spoken to for ages phoned for a chat and could immediately tell my friend was in a bad way.  Having had the problem explained to him, the business associate, who was, as Dickens might have put it ‘not without influence’ immediately arranged for his solicitors to take up the matter on my friend’s behalf.

It took a few months, but it was sorted out satisfactorily and all the legal costs were paid for by the business associate.

Now, it could well have been a co-incidence that my friend, who was at the end of his tether, just happened to receive that phone call the morning after he’d prayed for help.

But what prompted his old associate to phone him that particular day?

More importantly… How many of you remember Woodbines?

I remember the days when you could only get petrol, oil and bags of coal from the local petrol station.  How times have changed!

Today, most petrol stations are as well stocked up as the supermarkets, which is a blessing in more ways than one for many men, especially with Valentine’s Day around the corner!

The last-minute chocolates, cards and flowers can quite often save a relationship.  Having said that, Welsh men are actually quite lucky – we get St Dwynwen’s Day on the 25th January, which I’m convinced was created as a three-week pre-warning just so we don’t forget.

Valentine’s Day this year is quite obviously going to be a bit different, at last us men can rest easy as we don’t have to make frantic phone calls to book the other half’s favourite restaurant.  I do hope this changes soon though, as not only am I actually missing going out for a lovely meal, I’m sure the local pubs and restaurants are missing us, too.

Last year, I decided to get that special person in my life some lovely flowers for St Valentine’s Day.  The landlord of my local was quite touched and displayed them in a vase on the bar.

I heard a funny, apparently true, story the other day that put a smile on my face. I hope it has the same effect on you.

Keith Simmons is a talented comedian who for many years formed a double-act with his brother Alan. You won’t be surprised to learn they were called “The Simmons Brothers”.

Keith has also written gags and sketches for dozens of well-known comedians and while having trouble finishing a ‘Country and Western’ sketch for “The Brian Conley Show”, decided to seek expert advice.

He found out there was a monthly publication titled “Country Music News” and decided to ‘tap their brains’ for some in-depth knowledge.

He phoned the contact number he’d been given, and when a female voice answered, Keith said “Hello! Is that ‘Country Music News’?”

And the lady replied, “Yes. But he’s gone down the post office!”

Showbiz stories never fail to raise a chuckle especially when they involve performers who mess things up.  A young actor, given his first West End break in some now long forgotten ‘who-dun-it’, was tasked with playing two roles. A police constable in the first act and a bearded, be-spectacled police surgeon in the second, whose only line, in response to the question “How did he die?” was… “Manual strangulation”.

But during rehearsals he kept saying “Stranual mangulation” which drove the director and the other actors mad.  Right up to the dress rehearsal he couldn’t stop himself saying “Stranual mangulation”

He felt terrible, sure he was going to be fired.  But it was too late to find a replacement.  The play was opening that night.

The despairing director pleaded with him to do his best to get the line right, otherwise a tense moment would be ruined by audience laughter.

That evening, the curtain rose and all went well until the courtroom scene in Act Two.

As the minutes ticked away towards the moment the police surgeon was to be cross-examined, the cast were silently praying the young man wouldn’t say “Stranual mangulation”.

Eventually he was asked…”How did he die?”  To which, without hesitation, the police surgeon replied… “He was shot!”

Apparently, it appears that my luck is changing and the future is looking amazingly bright.

Let me explain.

I have received a wedding proposal by email from a Russian lady, 25 years younger than myself, who reassures me that her intentions are honourable and she is very keen to learn to speak English.  I’d have been slightly more impressed if she’d have said Welsh.

She seemed very keen for me to accept her proposal quickly and assured me I was the man for her.

Strangely, earlier that day I also received an email from an overseas legal firm informing me that a legal loophole had been found which meant that they had chosen me to be party to a $2,000,000 inheritance.  To proceed I simply needed to supply my full name and bank details.  How amazing is that?

With all the doom and gloom around another three weeks lockdown my luck seems to be finally changing for the better!

My only initial concern here is that my future Russian bride may have already had access to my emails and just be after me for my inheritance? Surely not?
She’s promised to send me a picture of herself….watch this space….