The year 2024 barely started when we were battered by storm after storm – and according to those highly paid and sometimes highly irritating weather forecasters, in-between the storms, we’ve had heavy rain and wind.
Err . . . excuse me: isn’t a storm basically a meteorological mixture of heavy rain and wind?
Perhaps telling us Storm Bonnie will follow Storm Shaky is tedious, so they break the monotony by suggesting something else is causing us to get wet. And cold. And miserable.
The storms around my way worried me, because I’ve got a new garden shed – and it wasn’t cheap!
Well, okay it was. But that’s not the point. I was concerned it might be damaged by the elements.
The morning after one powerful storm, in which the winds whipped up to 80 miles an hour, I looked out of my back bedroom window in trepidation (which is a small suburb of Ammanford) to check on my shed. Fortunately, it was still in one piece. Unfortunately, it was in Birmingham.
Now, I make no apology for re-cycling that joke from a year or so ago as it’s a favourite and I’ll probably drag it out of semi-retirement one more time before I send it off to the old jokes home.
At this point, let me make it clear I’m not a conspiracy theorist.
Though, oddly, I do have a theory about conspiracy theorists that until now I’ve only shared with a few like-minded people.
Which, on reflection, does suggest I’m a conspiracy theorist. Hmm…
Okay. My theory is… storms have become more frequent, more powerful and more destructive since some ‘Genius’ decided to give them names.
Until a year or so ago, weather forecasters just warned us that ‘a storm’ was on its way. It arrived, it went and there was always a long respite before the next one.
Since they’ve been given names, the publicity has gone to their heads, so now they rapidly follow one after another, each of them desperate to be the next scary storm to have their name splashed all over the media.
It’s only a theory.
But it’s got you thinking, hasn’t it?

I couldn’t help but notice the dire state of conversation during a recent dinner function.
Picture this: a table of eight friends, each one engrossed in their mobile phones, completely oblivious to the delicious food placed in front of them.
It seems that the art of engaging in a genuine conversation with another human beings is on life support. In fact, I fear that soon people won’t even bother talking to each other at all!
But the struggle doesn’t end there.
Navigating through town has become a perilous adventure, with pedestrians glued to their screens, oblivious to the world around them. They stroll in a straight line as if it’s their divine right, while the rest of us perform acrobatic manoeuvres to avoid colliding with them.
Believe it or not, the statistics are staggering.
Last year alone, approximately 1900 pedestrians sought medical treatment for accidents caused by walking and texting simultaneously.
And get this: a few years back, a 14-year-old daredevil fell a whopping eight feet off a bridge while attempting the dangerous feat of texting and walking!
So, here’s a challenge for you.
The next time you dine out, take a moment to count the number of phones being used at the table.
Trust me, it’ll be an eye-opening experience.
And if you find yourself agreeing with my observations, well, let’s just say I told you so!

I intended telling you about the Olympic trampolinist who, immediately after his long-term girlfriend left him, married on the rebound.
But I’ve parked it in the layby of undeveloped articles, because I’ve created a new TV cop series.
Yes, there’s already too many ‘police procedural dramas’ (as they are referred to in TV Land), but when I tell you my idea, you’ll wonder why you didn’t think of it.
You might also wonder, “Surely a busy man like Phil Evans has better things to do with his time?”
The idea came to me after watching one of those 1950s, black and white “Scotland Yard” films – based on true stories – on Talking Pictures TV, just before I watched a new ITV cop show.
I won’t bother naming it, because, with honourable exceptions, the titles and storylines of all TV cop shows are pretty much interchangeable.
In the “Scotland Yard” mystery, the crime was solved by detectives doggedly sifting through evidence; uninformed officers making endless door-to-door enquiries; and information received from ‘coppers’ narks’.
This was in stark contrast to the modern show, in which every scene included a moment when a cop either made or took a call on their mobile or received a text/WhatsApp message.
Whatever information was exchanged moved the story on to a crime scene, or a new suspect, or (yawn) the main cop’s home where some predictable domestic drama was unfolding.
As mobile phones play such a major part in today’s cop shows, I’ve  created the ultimate TV crime fighter of the future . . .
Inspector Keypad!
He’s a street cred, no nonsense, man-size phone with arms and legs, which makes him really mobile.
And he solves crimes by communicating with the mobile phones of criminals, purely by thought waves.
If you think that sounds ridiculous, just remember that the exploits of a detective called Vera, who has an annoying manner, a battered old hat permanently welded to her head and, in reality, would have retired 20 years ago. She’s regularly watched by seven million people!
And don’t get me started on the bonkers “Midsomer Murders”!

Those sharp-witted readers among you will undoubtedly realise that my newspaper column has been going strong since June 2014.
When I was unexpectedly approached to become a regular contributor to this esteemed local paper, I was taken aback and honoured.
Honestly, I hadn’t even considered adding column writing to my already impressive repertoire!
At first, I wasn’t sure if I could consistently deliver content with stringent deadlines. And let’s not forget, the media devours material at an astonishing pace.
And then there was the issue of technology: how many ink ribbons would I require for my ancient typewriter each week? It was a conundrum, to say the least.
But I’m delighted to say that I embraced the challenge.
The incredible letters and positive feedback I receive (not just from readers in Wales, but also from as far as Canada and America) make it all worthwhile.
During my travels, I encounter a myriad of captivating characters with fascinating stories.
Without them, this space would probably be overrun with more adverts than you can shake a stick at.
So, here’s to the power of words and the colourful tapestry they weave!

Breaking news!
I’m joking!
I just wanted to grab your attention . . .  like rolling TV news presenters do when the male and female duo (was that format hammered out through an act of Parliament?) become as bored with noodling around with a news story as viewers are of listening to it.
First, the presenters selflessly give you their thoughts on a news story, then bring in an expert to give their six penn’orth, then, in the interest of ‘balance’, bring in someone with an opposing view. And on it goes . . .
Before those of you who ‘Work’ (forgive my loud sniggering!) from home know it, breakfast TV has finished and it’s time for ‘Elevenses’!
Aware they’ve probably sent viewers who aren’t (‘Cough’!)‘Working’ from home into a glassy-eyed zombie state, the presenters suddenly announce, “We have breaking news!”
This causes non-home workers to pay attention and ‘home workers’ to drop their digestive biscuit into their third mug of coffee of the morning, splashing supermarket-brand Latte down the front of their dressing gowns.
Yes, there are occasions when that ‘Breaking News’ is important.
But nine times out of 10, it’s not.
Stories about court cases involving reality TV ‘celebs’ or which football players have been dropped from Saturday’s match trivialise the intended impact of ‘Breaking News’.
The early evening news on BBC TV and ITV, including UK news, World news, sport and the weather is done and dusted in 30 minutes. That’s pretty much how it’s been for decades.
Look through old editions of the Radio Times and you’ll see some teatime news bulletins only lasted 15 minutes, as did regional news.
People also got their news from their papers and the radio – just as we are today.
Nobody thought, “I’m not well-informed enough. Gimme news 24 hours a day!”
I realise it’s much too late now, but I question the need for several TV news channels and wouldn’t miss them if they were all taken off the air so we didn’t have to hear the self-important views of presenters and pundits.
Because I’m old enough to remember when newsreaders just read the news.

Last autumn, a friend of mine who (shall we say *****) was “a little overweight” and told me he’d decided to do something about it.
His timing wasn’t perfect as we were enjoying a meal of chicken tikka masala, onion bhajis, poppadoms and garlic naans.
It was the weirdest Italian restaurant I’ve ever eaten in.
Rather than take out a gym membership or sign-up for the London Marathon he was going to follow the World Health Organisation’s recommendation of walking 10,000 steps a day.
Last week, I saw him strolling along Fabian Way, Swansea, and it was obvious he’d put on weight rather than lost any, so I decided to attract his attention in my usual subtle, diplomatic manner.
“Oi! Chubster!” I shouted – and, fair dos, his head spun around in my direction.
I couldn’t shake his right hand as it was gripped around a half-eaten Greggs pastie – and my right hand contained a half-eaten Greggs sausage roll.
I said, “I thought you were going to walk 10,000 steps a day?” as l brushed little flakes of pastry from my chin.
He explained, “I intended to. But I couldn’t find one building in this city with 10,000 steps to walk up and down.”
Which sort of made sense…
I did some research into this ‘10,000 steps a day’ idea to see if it was another number randomly picked out of the air like the ‘Five pieces of fruit a day’ advice of a few years back.
It started in 1964 when the Kyushu University Of Health And Welfare in Japan discovered that by walking 10,000 steps a day, a person could walk off 20% of their daily calorie intake.
So…if we took 50,000 steps a day we could walk off 100% of our daily calorie intake.
Trouble is, if we walked 50,000 steps every day, at the end of the first week we’d end up in Hereford.
I wonder if there’s a Greggs there?

You know by now I’m not a TV addict who watches soaps or ‘reality’ shows.
While I usually avoid anything with ‘Celebrity’ in the title, I recently watched one that made me laugh out loud – although I doubt the producers of “Celebrity Mastermind” intended it to.
I roared as four ‘celebs’ who I (and 80% of viewers) didn’t recognise, failed to answer a series of stupefyingly simple questions along the lines of, “In the nursery rhyme, what type of creature was Incy Wincy?”
When I tell you the specialist subject of one ‘celeb’ was ‘My House’ and they failed to score one point, that’ll give you an idea of how hilarious it was.
But I digress . . .
That wonderful provider of vintage films and TV shows, the Talking Pictures TV channel, recently broadcast a short tribute to the stars who passed away in 2023, which I found both moving and shocking.
We lose stars every year, but 2023 was particularly cruel.
Here’s just a few . . .
Barry Humphries. Tony Bennett. Tina Turner. Mike Yarwood. Joss Ackland. Michael Gambon. Michael Parkinson. Raquel Welch. Sinead O’Connor. Paul O’Grady. Matthew Perry. Vince Hill. Shirley Anne Field. Richard ‘Shaft’ Roundtree. Tom Wilkinson. Glenda Jackson.
All gone – never to be replaced.
On New Year’s Eve, we lost actor David Kernan, well-known in the West End for shows like “Side By Side By Sondheim”. He also appeared in the 1964 film “Zulu” – although he wasn’t supposed to!
When the cast and crew were on the plane flying out to Natal to make the film, the star and co-producer Stanley Baker introduced himself to everyone in turn, rejoined director Cy Endfield at the front and whispered, “I know all the actors, except him”, looking over at David Kernan.
Cy said: “He’s the guy you asked for. From the TV show “That Was The Week That Was”. The one whose surname starts with a ‘K’.
Stanley slumped back in his seat and sighed, “I meant Roy Kinnear!”
Which is why the part of Private Fred Hitch was played by a stage musical performer instead of the rotund comedy actor.

It appears that my luck is changing and the future is looking amazingly bright.
Let me explain.
I have received a courtship proposal by email from an Ukrainian lady, 20 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 $1,000,000 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, my luck seems to be finally changing for the better!
My only initial concern here is that my future Ukrainian love 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!

So! That’s 2023 done and dusted.
Like every year, some of you may have been battered and bruised by ‘life’s little surprises’, in your professional and domestic lives or by health-related issues – but we somehow got through them.
So, as New Year resolutions are a waste of time, what can we do to make little improvements to our lives in 2024?
One friend of mine has already decided how he can improve his life this year, after he and his wife spent a horrendous evening in an Italian restaurant with a couple we’ll call Rosie and Jim, before Christmas.
Rosie’s deliberate rudeness sounds almost comical now – but wasn’t at the time.
Even though Rosie and Jim had chosen the restaurant, Rosie looked at the menu and announced there was nothing that really appealed to her, grudgingly chose a risotto and said she was unimpressed by the glass of red wine she was served.
While my friend and his wife enjoyed their food and wine, Rosie related interminable stories, mostly about her many grandchildren – which my friend and his wife received with polite smiles, ever though they’d never met the characters in these family tales.
My friend and his wife also have grandchildren but are astute enough to realise nobody wants to hear about everything they’ve been up to.
Having attentively listened to Rosie’s not-very-absorbing stories, my friend (who you might describe as a ‘showbiz veteran’) noticed with growing bemusement that whenever he began to speak, Rosie’s gaze immediately wandered across to something far more interesting in another part of the restaurant, such as a stain on a tablecloth, in a deliberately disdainful silent display of “Well, I’m not the least bit interested in your showbusiness stories!”
This is Rosie’s standard behaviour every time they meet, so he has no idea why she’d want to spend time with someone whose conversation she finds so uninteresting.
What he does know is, life is too short to spend precious time with people who treat him with contempt and that he won’t be wasting another second of it in the company of Rosie and Jim.

So, here we are, the holiday season is officially over, and the Christmas decorations have been carefully packed away.
It’s funny when you think about it, isn’t it?
Christmas has now become nothing more than a cardboard box gathering dust in the attic!
And, let’s be honest, by the time this week comes to an end, I’ll probably have managed to break at least three of my New Year’s resolutions, and most likely, four of The Ten Commandments. Oops!
Why is it that we start January with such high hopes and good intentions, only to find ourselves struggling to stick to our goals?
On the last day of December, I filled my fridge with healthy salads and even went as far as ironing my running vest. I was ready to conquer the world!
But come January 2nd, here I am, sitting in my kitchen, writing this column, while shamelessly indulging in some freshly-baked goodies from my favourite local coffee shop. It seems my willpower only lasts for a day longer than last year. Progress, right?
For many of us, January feels like a state of limbo. The excitement and joy of the holidays are gone, and the harsh reality of the credit card bill for that elaborate Christmas hits us like a ton of bricks.
And speaking of Christmas, there’s one burning question that always lingers in my mind during the festive season: Whatever happened to soap on a rope? Has it gone extinct? Did it run away with the reindeer? These are the mysteries that keep me up at night!
So, here’s to a January full of broken resolutions, guilty pleasures, and unanswered questions about bathroom accessories. Cheers!