People often ask me (as someone who’s acquainted with comedy) what, as Doddy put it, ‘exercises my chuckle muscles’.
Many comedians do. Billy Connolly for one. While other very successful laughter-makers you might think are hilarious, have never made me so much as smile.
As they say in certain French restaurants, “It’s horses for courses”.
When I’m out and about, people’s quirky mannerisms or their repetitive use of certain words and phrases (often completely out of context) – the little things that most people wouldn’t pick up on – make me smile inwardly.
I should add that comedians are terrified at the prospect of facing an audience who might just sit and smile inwardly through their act!
On the subject of comedians, for modern audiences, weaned on “Live From The Apollo” and other comedy shows where no holds are barred regarding subject matter and language, names from the past like Bob Hope and George Burns probably mean very little. If they do, they’re certainly not revered…and may even be regarded as ‘old hat’.
Yet when BBC 4 recently repeated a couple of “Parkinson” shows from the 70s that featured Hope and Burns, the relaxed, confident way the two veteran entertainers delivered their anecdotes and one-liners in a style developed over decades, were master classes. You could feel the warmth and love they were receiving from the audience.
Sometimes, an ‘Old hat’ can fit very comfortably.
But it’s mainly politicians that make me laugh the loudest today!
Watching ministers, deputy ministers and shadow ministers squirming and struggling to respond with a straightforward, believable answer when grilled by breakfast TV presenters, the politician’s eyes silently screaming “I’d rather be at the dentists!”, tears of laughter roll down my cheeks, diluting the milk in my cereal bowl.
During a recent TV debate, when the PM dispensed with his Armani jacket to address the studio audience and the viewers in his (Shock!) shirt sleeves, this blatantly stage-managed attempt to make the public think “Hey! He’s just like us!” made me roar with laughter so loudly my next-door neighbour complained. And he was visiting his sister in Aberystwyth!

Opinions, opinions everywhere, but does anyone really care?
In a world where everyone has a voice, it’s like a never-ending game of “opinion ping-pong” where we’re all just bouncing ideas off each other, hoping to score a point.
With the rise of social media, expressing your thoughts has never been easier. But let’s face it, for every well-thought-out argument, there’s a troll lurking in the digital shadows, ready to pounce with their keyboard warrior skills. It’s like a virtual battlefield out there, with memes and GIFs as our weapons of choice.
Gone are the days of civil discourse and friendly debates. Now, it’s all about who can come up with the wittiest comeback or the most savage clapback. It’s like a digital Wild West, where the fastest typer wins the showdown.
And let’s not forget the power players in this online circus – our politicians, world leaders, and industry giants. If they can’t keep their cool and show some basic human decency, what hope is there for the rest of us? It’s like watching a reality show where the contestants are supposed to be role models but end up throwing shade instead.
So, next time you’re about to hit “send” on that fiery tweet or scathing comment, remember: education is our shield, and empathy is our sword.
Let’s strive for a world where opinions are respected, debates are constructive, and the only trolls we encounter are the ones in fairy tales. After all, there are always two sides to every argument – just like there are two sides to a screen.

I was queuing in my bank, waiting to deposit my winnings from the one-armed bandit in my local pub.
For those of you who don’t know, he’s a Brazilian named Pedro Gonzales and (as he’s minus one arm) you wonder why he didn’t follow a less demanding career than banditry . . . and also why he plays pub dominos for money with me, the man crowned West Wales Domino Champion three years running.
And, believe me, playing dominos while you’re running takes some doing.
As I queued, I was forced to listen to a cacophony of songs playing from the speakers around me. Mainly ear-piercing, back-to-back, soulful (i.e. depressing) ballads sung by Adele squawk-a-likes.
It seemed totally inappropriate for what is, after all, a business environment where customers carry out private or commercial financial matters, without having their ears assaulted by someone wringing every last syllable out of a simple line like “You don’t love me anymore” for 10 minutes,
That evening, the TV news announced more branches of a well-known bank are closing because the majority of their customers bank online.
A spokesperson said only eight per cent actually use their local branch, mainly people over the age of 60 – stopping short of referring to them as dinosaurs or nuisances. But only just!
I question that low percentage. But, assuming it’s true, I have a couple of questions . . .
Why do banks have songs playing in the background, anyway?
People managed quite well without it for decades and not one customer commented, as they cashed their wages cheque, “You know, what this place needs is some Sinatra blasting out!”
If most customers who use banks in 2024 are over 60, why are the songs they have to listen to more likely to appeal to the under 30s, who, we’re assured, all bank online?
Banks can’t have it both ways.
Could it be a sinister ploy by banks to make the experience so excruciating for loyal customers who’ve been with them for years, they decide to throw in the towel and bank online?
If so, eventually only the staff will be left to hum along to the songs . . just before the branch closes and they’re out of work.

Listen up, folks! We need to talk about supporting our local businesses because it’s getting real out there. I mean, have you seen the struggle? It’s like watching a marathon runner with a broken leg trying to compete against Usain Bolt. It’s not pretty.
These local small businesses, some of them passed down through generations, have been the backbone of our culture for as long as we can remember.
But guess what? They’re disappearing faster than a slice of pizza at a party. It’s a sad sight to see.
But fear not, my friends, because we can make a difference. It’s time to rally together and show some love to our local communities. And who should step up to the plate? Our local councils, that’s who!
They need to make our towns more accessible with cheaper (or dare I say, free) parking. That way, our local traders can actually have a fighting chance against the retail giants.
Let’s face it, when a local business shuts down, it’s not like it magically reappears like a phoenix.
Nope, it’s gone for good, leaving a void in our towns and villages.
And trust me, you can see the effects. The character and community spirit are slowly eroding, and we’re just standing by, watching it happen like it’s no big deal.
But guess what? It is a big deal!
It’s time to wake up and smell the local coffee shop’s freshly brewed java.
We need to up our game, people!
We need to make a conscious effort to buy locally and show our commitment to keeping the heart of our culture and communities alive.
So the next time you’re tempted to click that “Add to Cart” button on a faceless online store, think twice.
Take a stroll down your local high street, support that quirky little bookstore, indulge in some handmade crafts, and grab a bite at that family-run restaurant.
Because, when we buy local, we’re not just making a purchase, we’re making a statement. We’re saying, “Hey, we care about our community, and we’re here to keep the spirit alive!”
Let’s show those retail giants that the little guys can pack a punch.
Who’s with me? Let’s make our towns vibrant, unique, and full of life again!

“The Book Of Heroic Failures” by Stephen Pile was published in 1979 and became a No1 Best Seller.
I only read the first few pages because the bloke thumbing through a copy in WH Smith’s got annoyed with me peering over his shoulder, asking him to turn the pages a bit slower.
I recently found a copy of the book, in good condition, on sale for 50 pence in a local charity shop.
After haggling over the price with the lady behind the counter, I handed her a shiny 20 pence piece and went home with my prize.
When I checked the index, I was astonished to find that the book that ‘Celebrates human inadequacies in all its forms’ doesn’t mention my Uncle Cledwyn, who was responsible for some of the 20th Century’s most heroic failures.
Loyal readers will recall that my Uncle Cledwyn lives alone in a small cottage in a remote part of the Wye Valley and has a habit of walking around his abode completely naked – although, on the rare occasion someone should come to his front door, he does have the good manners to put on a trilby hat.
Cledwyn likes to say he lives an ‘Off grid’ lifestyle, but the truth is he actually lives off deliveries from the local village shop!
The delivery driver, rather than risk seeing old Cledwyn as naked as nature intended, drops off the supplies 100 yards from the cottage, gives three blasts on the horn and hurriedly drives off before Cledwyn has reached for his trilby and opened the front door.
So, I hear you ask . . . “What were Cledwyn’s heroic failures?”
There’s not enough room to list them all, but, as a very young man he invented the ‘
fridge magnet.
Unfortunately, he failed to make any money from it because it would be another 10 years before someone invented the fridge.
Perhaps his biggest failure was his attempt to invent a penetrating oil that could lubricate rusty metal.
After 38 failed attempts to get the formula right, he decided to give it just one more try. But, sadly, WD39 didn’t take off . . .

Remember the good old days when the local petrol station only had petrol, oil, and bags of coal?
It’s amazing how times have changed!
Nowadays, petrol stations are like mini-supermarkets, fully stocked with all kinds of goodies.
And this is especially great news for all the men out there, considering Valentine’s Day is just around the corner!
Gone are the days of last-minute panic when you realise you forgot to buy chocolates, cards, or flowers for your loved one.
Now, you can simply swing by the petrol station and find everything you need to save the day. It’s like a relationship-saving oasis right there at the pump!
But let me tell you, Welsh men have an extra stroke of luck.
We have St Dwynwen’s Day on January 25, which is like a three-week pre-warning for Valentine’s Day. It’s like the universe is giving us a gentle nudge not to forget. How thoughtful!
I remember last year, I decided to surprise that special person in my life with some beautiful flowers for St Valentine’s Day. And guess where I got them? At my local pub!
The landlord was so touched by the gesture that he displayed the flowers in a vase on the bar. Talk about spreading the love!
So, next time you find yourself in a last-minute Valentine’s Day frenzy, remember that petrol stations are not just for fuel anymore.
They are your one-stop-shop for saving relationships and making romantic gestures. Who would have thought?
And hey, if you’re feeling extra lucky, maybe you’ll stumble upon a petrol station that offers relationship advice, too. Now that would be something!