Before I get to the nub of this article, I wanted to quickly tell you what happened last Saturday afternoon as I sat in my living room listening to the radio.

Not my radio. The man next door’s.

Fortunately for me, our tastes in music are quite similar and I often find myself singing along and tapping my feet as a familiar melody wafts through the walls.  Besides, month on month I save a fortune on electricity and batteries.

Anyway, I was in my living room and the doorbell went. They’ll steal anything around our way!

That was a joke.

Don’t go. It gets better.

I got up to answer the door – even though the door hadn’t actually asked me a question – and found three men standing on the doorstep.

The man in the middle was a stranger to me and undoubtedly to you, too, as I haven’t told you his name because he was a stranger to me.  But the two men standing either side of him were instantly recognisable.

To his left was actor Dennis Waterman, famous for “Minder”, “The Sweeney” and “New Tricks” and to his right was Liverpudlian actor, comedian and TV presenter Les Dennis.

What were they doing at my front door? Well to paraphrase Les Dennis’s famous impression of Coronation Street’s Mavis Riley… “I didn’t really know!”

Imagine my surprise when the stranger in the middle of the two celebrities demanded that I repaid his boss the £500 I owed him.

When I told him I didn’t owe anybody £500, he just snarled, “Either you pay me now or I’ll get these two to sort you out!”

To be honest, the two actors didn’t look at all intimidating. Just embarrassed.  Maybe they were ‘resting’ between jobs and needed some extra cash.

I quickly shut the door and ‘phoned the police who were on the scene within days…no, minutes!

Although it turned out the man had come to the wrong address, the Police insisted on charging him with…  Demanding money with Dennises!

Looks like I’ve run out of space.

You’ll be able to read this week’s article next week!

On Sunday, I got up early, having had a late night.  The aim was to get creative in readiness for today’s column (this column doesn’t write itself, you know), which can be challenging, especially if you are not in the correct frame of mind.

So, to start the creative process, I thought it best to visit the gym, as exercise is something that many say is good for the brain.It also makes you sweaty and tired, but that’s a story for another time.

Despite having arrived early, I was surprised to see that many other people had the same idea, maybe not for the same reasons as me, but I’m sure you get my drift.

I witnessed men and women of various ages working out on a day of rest, keen to stay fit and younger looking, which I’m sure you will agree is a good thing.

However, I also couldn’t help but notice that many wore ‘make up’, including blusher, bright lipstick and brightly-coloured designer sportswear – and, yes, the ladies were just as colourful!

I never knew that going to the gym was such a social occasion for so many.
We live in interesting times . . .

For the record, I’m truly enjoying life’s rich tapestry, especially as it does help me become more creative.

“If we knew where all the brilliant ideas came from, we wouldn’t waste time thinking-up bad ones!” *
*The inventor of the ‘Man Bun’.

When Thomas Edison suddenly realised that humanity needed better, brighter illumination than candles and oil lamps provided and decided he must invent something that’d do the job safely and conveniently, was that the first ever lightbulb moment?

Like asking how much a ride on the dodgems at Barry Island costs – it’s a fair question.

Loyal readers know I occasionally get ideas for articles through overhearing conversations in coffee shops.  That still happens, because socially distanced customers two tables away sometimes talk so loudly over their flat whites and cappuccinos, ignoring them is an impossibility.

Like the couple overheard discussing a TV comedy show they’d watched.  The lady declared it hilarious, while the man shrugged and said begrudgingly,

“I suppose it was alright…if you like laughing”.

All comedians, humourists and writers need to be highly observant as they walk around.  They may see something outwardly inconsequential that they recall hours, days or weeks later and find a use for.

Often, when ideas pop into my head, unless I scribble them down immediately, day or (especially) at night, they evaporate into thin air and try as I might I rarely get them back.  Which is why I keep a pen and small notebook handy.

I recently had a business appointment in a town I’d never visited before and, after I’d parked my car, I made my way through unfamiliar streets, looking for the building where my meeting was due to be held.  As I turned a corner, I noticed that across the road, a launderette was situated immediately adjacent to a church.

This, as the Americans say “Got my wheels turning”. Why they can’t just say “I’ve had an idea!” I’ve no idea.

Anyway, I reached into my jacket pocket for my pen and notebook, stood on the pavement, looking across at the launderette by the church and this is what I wrote down…“I have just seen absolute proof that cleanliness really is next to Godliness”.

I don’t know about you, but for me there is much pleasure in holding an actual newspaper, especially when you are catching up on the local news. Long may this continue, despite the huge increase in digital and online news sites.

Let’s face it, if we got rid of newspapers altogether, what would my local chippy wrap the chips in?

I did some research and found that newspapers date back to the 1600s. The first British newspaper, The Oxford Gazette, was published 1665.

The 19th century then followed on as a period of newspaper boom.  By the 20th century, each city had its own privately published newspaper.

We live in interesting times and the younger generation are far less likely to support the old traditional ways – yet alone purchase a local paper.

This in itself has a huge impact on the industry, which I know saddens many fellow readers of this publication.

The letters and messages that I receive from the people who read this paper demonstrates that value is gained and support continues for the traditional way of spreading the news.  Wouldn’t it be sad to witness the end of the good old-fashioned newspaper?

I’ve often told you about my eccentric Uncle Cledwyn, who lived alone in a remote cottage in the Wye Valley.  It’s time I confessed that, although I called him ‘Uncle’ Cledwyn, we weren’t actually related.

Because his third wife was my mother’s hairdresser’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s neighbour’s chiropodist. Where I come from that more than justified me calling him ‘Uncle’.  You may scoff at that, but just one more connection and I might easily have started calling him ‘Dad’!

Cledwyn’s eccentricity manifested itself in many forms – and perhaps the most outrageous was his habit of not wearing a stitch of clothing around his house.  Frying chips must have caused some painful incidents.

His handful of friends and few remaining relatives were well aware he lived as naked as nature intended, which is why he never received visits from his handful of friends and few remaining relatives.

I also told you about the day I travelled to the Wye Valley area for work purposes (I’m very big in Llandogo you know!) and made the last-minute decision to pay him a surprise visit.  I wasn’t sure which of us was going to get the bigger surprise.

It turned out it was me who was surprised the most, because when I rang his door knocker – Cledwyn wasn’t a bad bloke but he was hopeless at any sort of electrical wiring – he answered it wearing nothing but a battered old hat.

When I asked him about the hat, he responded, “I don’t wear clothes as I never get visitors.  “But out of courtesy I keep this hat by the front door… because you never know!”

Which, in his illogical mind, made perfect sense.

I now have to break the news to you that the man I’ve always called ‘Uncle’, even though he isn’t really, has gone on to a better place.  He’s left the Wye Valley and moved into a cottage overlooking Cardigan Bay.

Anyone thinking of dropping in on him unexpectedly should be warned that he still keeps that battered old hat by the front door.  And he fries chips every Tuesday and Saturday…

People watching is part and parcel of every comedian’s way of life.

Last week, as I sat in a socially-distanced coffee shop, I witnessed a middle-aged lady get up from her chair to leave.  I couldn’t help but notice that she had dark glasses and a white stick.  Clearly, she looked as if she was visually impaired.

However, as she walked out, she spotted 5p under the next table, walked over, picked it up and put it in her purse, turned to walk out of the café and knocked over a chair.  Now then, even I hadn’t spotted it.

It reminds me of another funny story which happened as I was parked at traffic lights in Ammanford.  A lady, on her mobility scooter, smoking a cigarette (face mask carefully placed on her chin) crossed the road in front of me at quite a fast pace, causing some of her shopping to fall out of her basket.

As I got out of the car to help her, she had already jumped off of her scooter, run around to pick up her shopping and returned it to the basket, jumped back on board and scootered off, cigarette still intact!

It’s true that miracles happen all around us every day, if we just keep an eye out for them!

Coming up with original ideas, churning them around in my head and then sitting down to write what I hope are interesting articles, is always a joy for me.

I appreciate positive reactions from readers and take it on the chin whenever something I’ve written occasionally ruffles someone’s feathers and prompts them to respond in a not-too-friendly manner.  I never deliberately set out to offend my readers and, when I do my stand-up,  I don’t set out to offend my audience.

But when your job involves regularly sticking your head above the parapet, you must expect the odd critical tomato thrown at you.

My philosophy, which I’ll admit to stealing from the currently popular expression… “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!” is this… “When a tomato’s thrown at you, head it into the salad bowl, add some lettuce and cucumber and have it for your tea with a pastie!”

Okay, I admit it’s not as pithy as the lemons expression, but then lemons are full of pith.  If you’re making-up your own jokes, I’ll be very disappointed in you.

Talking of disappointment, did you see that newspaper article about a mother from Sussex who kicked up a fuss with Marks and Spencer when they refused to ice a particular message on top of the cake she ordered for her daughters 18thbirthday?

The message was, “I’m glad you were the strongest sperm”.  Yes. Really.

The mother said: “I know it was a bit cheeky, but my daughter and I have a great relationship”.  After posing together for photographs that accompanied the story, I wonder if they still do.  Girls of 18 embarrass easily.

My take on this is, if you must send a tacky birthday message to your daughter, write it in her card.  Don’t involve Marks and Spencer employees who would have had to pass the message from department to department for a decision.  And don’t complain to the ‘papers when M & S refuse to ice the message.

Otherwise, in years to come, you’ll have given your daughter the completely wrong reason to remember her 18th birthday.

Oi! Who threw that tomato?

There are two possible queues in the supermarket . . .
Why is it the one you decide to go for is always the slowest to move?

It’s even worse with social distancing and the checkout now seems miles away with two metres between everyone in the queue!

There is always that one customer in it who has picked the only product in the whole store with no price on.  Or the checkout operator decides to plonk the ‘checkout closed’ sign right before your shopping pile.

It’s the same at the cashpoint.  I always end up standing behind the person who decides now would be a good time to print out and check a monthly statement, check the balance on all four of their accounts and then print out receipts for each transaction!

Then, there is that fleeting thought that goes through your mind . . . shall I change queues?  You battle with this little voice inside your head telling you “NO!” as you know that, as soon as you move, your original queue will move at the speed of light!  It happens every time!

So, you move queues anyway, despite the little voice and, yes, your original queue starts moving quicker than Matt Hancock’s hands behind the office door . . .

Please tell me this doesn’t only happen to me?