Cards on the table time, folks.  Before you read on, please understand I have absolutely nothing against people of small stature.

A person’s height makes no difference to my attitude towards them.
I have short relatives, friends, colleagues and acquaintances.

Conversely, I’ve encountered just as many short people I’d never want to meet again as tall people. Have I made myself absolutely 100% crystal clear?
Good!

We can all agree there are none-too-bright people in the world and there are intelligent people. Into which category I fit is not for me to say.

Life isn’t fair – and some people just happen to be brighter than others.
They might have been born that way, did well at school and went to university or were average pupils with enquiring minds who acquired knowledge through reading books after they left school.

I cannot recall any occasion when university professors or graduates with degrees in subjects that most of us couldn’t pronounce let alone, loudly complained about a confectionery that’s been on sale for many years that openly ridicules their extraordinary gifts and hyper-intelligence.  They’re called “Smarties”.

Likewise, not one overweight person who couldn’t even run down to the corner shop let alone 26 miles around London, complained that their poor athleticism and flabbiness was being mocked when the “Snickers” bar was renamed “Marathon”.

And yet…

Marks and Spencer received a complaint about sweets they sell called “Midget Gems” from a campaigner for disability rights who stated the sweets could offend people with dwarfism and even described it as ‘Hate Speech’.

So, M&S have agreed to change the name to “Mini Gems”.

While I realise I’m in no position to judge the validity of the accusation, I can appreciate how upsetting it would be if the name of these previously innocuous-sounding sweets has, without the rest of us realising, continuously insulted generations of short people during the decades they’ve been on sale, not just in M&S but in every supermarket and confectioners in the land.

Which would make them all guilty of ‘Hate Speech’.  If you have any thoughts on this matter, do let me know.

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.

I couldn’t help feeling that this trip to the dump had now replaced the annual trip to the airport!

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 consider myself incredibly privileged to be able to share my ramblings with you every week – and in all the years I’ve been doing so I’ve only been ‘reprimanded’ by my bosses on a handful of occasions when I felt so strongly about a subject that I didn’t hold back my feelings.

However, when those in charge, as they’re perfectly entitled to, did hold back my article for publication, they politely gave me the opportunity to amend it.

Usually, rather than water it down, I happily wrote a new article, each incident being less a storm in a teacup than a ripple in an eye bath.

That said, when something happens on our own doorstep with the clear intention to cancel words and expressions we’ve used for years, it would be remiss of me not to comment on it.

And so…

The Welsh Government has issued an ‘A to Z’ list of ‘banned’ words to 30,000 civil servants in Wales.

If I tell you the words include ‘Brexit’ and “H.M. Government’, you might just understand why this has been described as ‘A bonkers misuse of public money by an administration that has clearly lost the plot’.

Staff have been told “Brexit has happened. Use transition period to refer to the period between February the 1st and December 31st”.

Also “Refer to the UK Government. Not Her Majesty’s”.

Bang goes any chance the compilers of the list will get mentioned in the New Year’s Honours this side of Doomsday.

Civil servants are discouraged from referring to someone with a ‘Hidden disability” and instead refer to their “Invisible impairment’.
Also “Able-bodied” people should be referred to as “Non-disabled”.  That’s one I really can’t get my head around.

Remember folks, your hard-earned cash paid senior civil servants to ‘brainstorm’ and draw up this list which lays down more rules to 30,000 Welsh civil servants than Westminster does to English civil servants – who approximately number 450, 000!

This follows hard on the heels of Welsh ministers cancelling the word ‘women’ from sex education in Wales.

Yes, I know. I know.

These word changes and more can be found in the new “Welsh Government Style Guide” and I’m not going to make a cheap jibe that questions what certain Welsh politicians know about ‘Style’.  Not this week, anyway.

Will you be raising a toast for Burns Night?

I have to confess that until I did my research, I thought Burns Night was an episode of Casualty.  Casualty has been running for more than 30 years.
A mate of mine does walk-on parts and he’s played ‘Man lying on trolley’ since it first started.  The way things are with the NHS these days, a patient lying on a trolley for more than 30 years isn’t unusual . . .

Burns Night celebrates the birth of Scotland’s greatest poet – Robbie Burns, born in 1759.  That’s more than 250 years ago.

Just think, if he was alive today . . . he’d be in a hell of a state!

It may come as a surprise to you that Robbie Burns died at the age of 37.
It certainly came as a surprise to him!

Robbie Burns had three great loves in his life – Haggis, whiskey and women!
He over-indulged in all three and they eventually did him in.  The constant diet of haggis wore out his digestive system.  The non-stop drinking wore out his liver.  And his bedroom antics eventually wore out his . . . . appetite for haggis and whiskey!

Burns suppers have been part of Scottish life for 200 years.  ‘Burnt suppers’ have been part of my life since the first time I came home late from the pub.  Men never learn, do they?

Theatres and other entertainment venues have had an uncertain, stop-start time since the 2020 lockdown.

Those of us who work in the entertainment business or enjoy attending ‘live’ performances hope normality is returned to sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, allow me to tell you some stories about the theatre I hope will amuse you.

Sir Noel Coward had what he referred to as ‘A talent to amuse’, which considering his huge body of work as a playwright, author, songwriter, director and actor is some understatement.

Known as ‘The Master’, he was invited to countless opening nights and after the curtain fell would be asked to go backstage and meet the cast, the director, the writer and the producers, all waiting anxiously to hear the Master’s valued opinion on the production they might have toiled over for years.

Even if the show was an obvious stinker, ever the diplomat, Noel would simply smile, put out his arms and say four words which would be interpreted as praise, even if he secretly thought the show would close within days…
“What can I say?”

However, later in life he became more waspish in his opinions as he was after watching the disastrous opening night of a musical version of “Gone With The Wind” at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

In one scene a real horse pulled a carriage upon which sat a very young Bonnie Langford, singing one of the shows unmemorable songs.

When the song ended, the audience applauded, frightening the horse so much it performed a very loud, very smelly natural function all over the stage.
When asked what he thought of the show, Noel said in his famous clipped manner, “It could be con-sid-er-a-bly improved if they stuffed the young girl up the horse’s backside!”

One of my favourite theatre stories involves Sir Ralph Richardson who was starring in a new West End play.

About 30 minutes into the show, Sir Ralph suddenly called out, “Is there a doctor in the house?”

When an audience member stood up and shouted “Yes!”, Sir Ralph said, “Doctor. Isn’t this a terrible play?”

See you in the dress circle!

Have they been after you yet?

Over the past week I’ve been bombarded with summer holiday offers and special deals at a rate of three a day.  This is no exaggeration.

My email inbox, Facebook account and Twitter feeds seem to be coming up with fascinating offers to tempt me, from both the big household names to some I’m sure have just been set up in someone’s front room, such as Gr8 Holidays 4 U and Flyjetsunbargains R Us.

In all fairness to them, they are putting their sales and marketing machines to good use and offering deals and destinations that are extremely tempting.

However, I do detect an element of desperation in their urgency at this time.
What are the chances of these holidays actually going ahead in the current pandemic – and even more worrying, what are the chances of getting your money back quickly in the event that they cancel?

I think I’m getting more cynical with age, or am I just wising up?

As I write, the weather is cold and damp with more rain on the way and the thought of a walk along the beach in a warm and sunnier climate is quite appealing as I apply my Deep Heat to my aching joints.

I know we are all desperate for restrictions to end and to have a holiday to look forward to – let me know what you think!

TV talent shows like “Opportunity Knocks” and “New Faces” gave novice performers a chance to ‘get on the telly’ and although they discovered future stars like Joe Pasquale, Les Dawson, Lenny Henry and Victoria Wood, they were mainly designed to entertain viewers for an hour.

From 1999 to 2004, Owen Money hosted the highly successful BBC Wales talent show “Just Up Your Street” which (full disclosure) I appeared on.

I have 500 VHS copies of that show for sale at £4.99 each if anyone’s interested.

Then Simon Cowell re-invented the TV talent show on a massive scale, coincidentally not long after “Just Up Your Street” had finished its first run.
You don’t think he…? Nah!

As “The X Factor” had huge budgets and was given a primetime Saturday night slot, a generation of viewers has grown up believing that TV talent shows are the only way to make a career in showbusiness.

Unfortunately, there have been many instances of performers winning talent shows and achieving a Christmas No1, then quickly fading back into obscurity for reasons I’d need a lot more space than this to explain.

I think it’s unfair that performers on “The X Factor” and the more recent “Walk The Line” are only given 90 seconds to impress the judges, who appear to think – quite mistakenly – these shows are all about them. Probably because they’re on camera more than the acts.

In my experience, both as a stand-up comedian and an audience member, it often takes a performer a couple of minutes to establish their personality and create a rapport with the audience.

For comedians, even a minute on stage without hearing any laughs can be excruciating. When that first laugh comes, their racing heartbeat slows down sufficiently to enable both them and the audience to relax and have fun.

On “Just Up Your Street” I was given nine minutes, which I knew would be edited down to five. That’s absolute luxury compared to the ridiculously short time today’s talent show performers are allowed.

You can judge for yourself how well I did by purchasing one of my VHS tapes at £4.99.

Okay. £1.99?

So, the Christmas decorations are all down and safely stored away.
When you think about it, Christmas is just a cardboard box in the attic now!

By the end of this week, it is most likely that I would have broken at least three of my New Year resolutions – and probably four of the Ten Commandments.

Why is it we head into January full of good intentions, yet find it so hard to stick to our goals?

On the 31st December I filled the fridge with salad and ironed my running vest.  By the 2nd January, I’m sitting in my kitchen, writing this column while sampling some freshly-baked goodies from my local coffee shop.

At least I lasted one more day than last year.

For many, January is the time of year when we feel in ‘limbo’.  The fun and excitement is over and the harsh reality of paying for an elaborate Christmas hits home.

There’s one question I always ask myself during the Christmas period: Whatever happened to soap on a rope?

While we’ve recently been hearing endless songs about Santa, snow and sleigh bells, the Christmas Number One exactly 50 years ago was “Ernie – The Fastest Milkman In The West” written and sung by British comedy legend Benny Hill.

As it stayed Number One for four weeks, it must have sold a huge number of 45’s.  Youngsters, ask your grandparents!

So as “Ernie” celebrates its half-century, it’s fitting that a digital TV channels is repeating some of the shows Benny made for Thames Television when there were only three TV channels.  Youngsters, ask your grandparents!

Benny’s shows attracted up to 21 million viewers – a figure unimaginable in today’s fragmented TV world of digital channels and streaming services – and was sold to 97 countries.

Benny reigned supreme until the late 1980’s when his shows risqué humour and the inclusion of young female dancers in skimpy costumes was criticised by the press – including, unbelievably, The Sun, (in)famous for its Page Three Girls!

A young Ben Elton said Benny’s shows encouraged assaults on women – a horrible, totally unjustified accusation to make about someone.

Interestingly, after Benny’s death in April 1989, Elton backtracked and denied he’d said it. But he did – on “Saturday Live” and in “Q” magazine.

The multi-talented Benny was the first TV comedian to use camera trickery to play several characters in the same sketch; starred in “The Italian Job” and “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”; and wrote hilariously funny lyrics, limericks and poems,

He was also the master of delivering a cleverly constructed double entendre while maintaining a look of total innocence that inferred that any naughty interpretation was in the mind of the viewer.

Whatever you think of Benny, it’s worth remembering that in 2002 The Independent newspaper voted him the third greatest British comedian of all time, behind Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel.

I’ll end by quoting one of the lines from “Ernie” which audaciously crams eleven syllables into one breathlessly delivered line and never fails to make me smile.  “…and a rock cake caught him un-der-neath his heart!”

Try saying that with a mouthful of Christmas cake!

A regular reader came up to me last week and asked, “Do you really get annoyed about so many things . . . or do you just pretend?”

My response?

“Kindly pass me that towel and get out of my bathroom!”

I had new door locks fitted the next day.

The truth is I do get annoyed by many things.

Like . . .

Christmas songs being played in shops well before Remembrance Sunday.

Christmas songs being played in shops well after Remembrance Sunday.

Recently I heard a BBC Radio Wales traffic presenter announce, “There is some issues on the Heads Of The Valleys Road!”

My quickfire response was worthy of Oscar Wilde – “Yeah, and that’s not the only thing there is issues with!”

You think Craig Revel Horwood is catty?

He’s an amateur compared to me!

I must be one of those over-sensitive people whose hackles are easily raised.

As a matter of fact, my family’s raised hackles since the 18th Century, always releasing them into the wild when they’re old enough to fend for themselves.

Now that we’re well into winter, my perennial pet peeve has starting to appear once again – grown men wearing shorts in bitterly cold weather, striding around as if they’re in the Australian outback.

They might think they’re tough as leather, but in fact they’re daft as a brush.

Why? Because, as their bare, pasty legs are attacked by icy winds, hail and snow, they wear woolly hats to keep their heads warm!

Does that make any sense whatsoever?

I overheard one young man justify his lack of long legwear in December by boasting, “I’ve come straight from football training!”

If he hadn’t been twice my size, I would have asked, “Fine. But why did you leave your trousers in the changing room?”

As for bandy, beer-bellied men over 50 wearing crumpled shorts at any time of year, I’m meeting the Lord Chief Justice soon to discuss having it made a capital offence . .