The flags & bunting have been stored away until the next Royal occasion they’re needed for.  A Coronation perhaps?

Let’s hope that’s a long way off.   Well, Westminster Abbey is a long way off from Ammanford. I tried walking there once. Never again. I got a puncture in my left trainer 100 yards from my house, fell into a hedge and cracked my hard-boiled eggs.  I’d taken them with me in case I got hungry on the journey.

Many of you will have enjoyed the four-day Bank Holiday and some intrepid souls might have taken the train to the metropolis to savour the atmosphere.

If so, I hope you thought it was worthwhile travelling up to London (Do we go UP to London, still?   And not DOWN to London? Discuss.) to hear Rod Stewart rasping his version of  “Sweet Caroline” outside the gates of Buckingham Palace during the Platinum Jubilee Party.

From the clips I’ve seen, it’s no wonder the Queen disappeared to Windsor Castle seeking peace and quiet.

The official explanation was she’d be watching the show on TV. Unofficially I hear she took a DVD box set of “The Crown” with her, which she intended to spend the entire weekend watching, accompanied by a £5.99 bottle of prosecco and a packet of cheese n’ onion crisps.

I’m no killjoy and I’m aware it was all a bit of froth and fun, following the terrible times we’ve been through. But it’s a reasonable question to ask – did we really need a four-day Bank Holiday during a cost of living crisis and a recession imminent?

Trooping The Colour, The Platinum Party and whatever that bizarre procession of random people travelling up the Mall in ‘buses was supposed to be, could have all been squeezed into a weekend.

Job done. God save Her Maj. Everyone back to work!

Don’t get me wrong, I love chilling out. That’s why I bought a Boris-size ‘fridge I could fit inside. But by Saturday afternoon I was so bored I wandered into the garden, did a ‘Prince Charles’ and talked to the plants.

I’m almost sure one of them shouted back “Killjoy!”

On Sunday, I got up early, having had a late night in Southampton.  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 local 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 enjoining life’s rich tapestry, especially as it does help me become more creative.

The Art Of Comedy is a funny thing.  Not in a ‘Funny ha-ha’ way – although the ultimate aim of trying to make an audience laugh is to be funny ha-ha, otherwise you’re just giving them a lecture.

I meant comedy is a mysterious, often intangible, nebulous entity that, for reasons that some of the greatest comedic minds in history have pondered and never found the answer to, is a bit like your very first car, bought second-hand from a friend’s mate who owns a garage…

Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

A singer with only a middling-to-average voice can make a living, as long as they hit the notes they’re aiming for.

If they’re outstanding singers with loads of charisma and a great management and song-writing team behind them, the sky’s the limit.

Arena tours, CDs going platinum and lucrative seasons in Vegas beckoning.
In order to achieve this, all they have to do is sing in tune.  And never get a sore throat.

However, if your career involves having to tickle an audience’s collective funny bone, you only have to deliver a couple of dud lines in a row and people will shift uneasily in their seats and wonder why they paid to see you.

Some rowdier audience members may even start to heckle.

Hopefully, you’ve still got some cracking lines to deliver, you get the audience back on your side and eventually you can get out of the venue in one piece.
Then when you get home, you pour yourself a drink and start thinking about a career change!

While songs have longevity, comedy has a short shelf life – often due to nostalgia for the time and the place you first heard the jokes.

If someone tells you a joke you’ve already heard, you probably won’t laugh, unless you’re a sensitive person who doesn’t want to hurt the joke-teller’s feelings.

In which case, do come to any future shows of mine you see advertised.
With a song, you might have heard it 50 or more times and never grown tired of it.

I think the answer is, next time I get up on stage, I’ll sing my routines!

Well I’ve dug out my Speedos, filled up the paddling pool, repaired the barbeque and prepared the patio area in readiness for the best summer to date.  Weather gurus are already optimistic, so that’s good enough for me.

Already every garden in the street is blooming and the local garden centres could possibly have the best trading year to date, according to reports.
Now, what we actually need for a perfect summer in Wales is our sunny days to run one after the other.

From February to November, we probably get enough beautiful sunny days to make a whole sunny summer; they are just randomly dotted throughout the year, scattered between rain, snow, hail, sleet and anything else the weather gods deem fit to throw at us.  Anyone know who I can call about this?

Just about anything is available to arrange on the internet now, so surely there is something the Met Office can do to make sure summers are always sunny?

Actually, I wonder if controlling the weather will be a thing of the future?
Off to make a few enquiries…

I dimly remember an advertisement for blank cassette tapes that asked “Is It Real? Or Is It Memorex?”  It suggested that it was impossible to tell the difference between an original performance and a version recorded on that particular brand of tape.

I suppose the modern equivalent of copycat versions of the originals are tribute acts performing the music of Queen, ELO, Eagles and other popular bands.

Like ‘em or loathe ‘em, without tribute acts, the doors of many venues around the UK would remain closed several nights a week.

One of the most popular ABBA tribute acts is Bjorn Again and I’ve often wondered if the two male singers swap roles some nights, just for a change.
“You can be Benny tonight. I wasn’t Bjorn yesterday!”

Now the ultimate ABBA ‘tribute’ show has opened at the ABBA ARENA in London’s Olympic Park, starring the real ABBA…well, a version of them.

Let me explain…

Thanks to amazing technology that’s taken five years to develop, Benny, Bjorn, Anna-Frid and Agnetha have ‘reformed’ and appear on stage as three-dimensional, digital ‘Avatars ‘ or ‘Abba-tars’, backed by ‘live’, non-Avatar musicians.

Earlier versions of this technology were used to bring Roy Orbison and Whitney Houston ‘back to life’ on stage – but apparently the ‘ABBA-TARS’ leave them light years behind.

To create their Avatars, ABBA spent five weeks being filmed performing 20 of their hits, wearing helmets equipped with cameras and microphones and ‘motion capture’ suits covered in sensors.

The footage was then handed to 1000 digital artists to bring the 1970s version of ABBA back to life, which didn’t come cheap.

Getting the show from the idea stage to the London stage cost £15million. The whole enterprise, financially and technologically, seems mind-boggling.

As it’s on seven days a week until December, with the potential to keep going until 2026, it’s unlikely they won’t make loads of ‘Money, Money, Money’.

I don’t fully understand the technology (and don’t pretend you do) but perhaps sometime in the future I could send out a Phil Evans Avatar to perform my comedy gigs while the real one stayed home and wrote articles.

The posters might say….  Is It Phil? Or Is It Phil’s AMMAN-TAR?

Festivals. It’s as if we were born to perform and we have been holding these events long before the invention of radio, television, internet or newspapers.
Now that’s a long time!  It’s a form of ritual, a chance to show off and feel young and alive again, which is undoubtedly a good thing.  There is so much choice in Wales . . .

Food festivals, flower festivals, beer festivals, folk and jazz festivals . . .  and, my favourite, comedy festivals.

The festival scene is booming and record numbers are being recorded up and down the country, despite the fact that the weather isn’t always ideal.

These events are so important for the local economy while preserving traditions that our grandparents and great grandparents started generations before us.

It has been recorded, that many people met up with their future partners at such gatherings.  Unlike the internet dating sites of today, the festival scene was often the only way to mix with like-minded people, which made it easier to talk or chat up a future partner.

Some years back, a survey stated that the first thing men noticed about women was their eyes.  Following this survey, women observed that the men in this survey were a bunch of liars.