It’s been a while since I attempted to entertain you with theatrical anecdotes, which I’ve either been told personally or I’ve stumbled across over the years.
I’m returning to the subject by public demand, thanks to a letter that poured in from a Mrs Betty Evans of Fishguard Harbour asking for more ‘Theatrical adenoids’. But I knew what she meant.
The name Harry Houdini will be familiar to most readers, but unless you’re a fan of stage magic, you probably haven’t heard of Harry Blackstone Snr (at one time considered America’s foremost magician) or Joseph Dunninger, world-renowned mind reader.
This tale was told by the well-known magician and mentalist David Berglas, whose ‘Berglas Effect’ card trick has never been bettered and who was President of the Magic Circle in 1989/90 and a much respected, active member up until his death in 2023 aged 97.
So, we have no reason to doubt its authenticity!
One night Harry Houdini went out for dinner with Harry Blackstone Snr. and Joseph Dunninger.
At the end of the evening, Blackstone offered to drive the other two home.
Unfortunately, when the three of them got to the car, Blackstone realised he’d mislaid his keys.
Dunninger, the much-revered mentalist, was unable to ‘see’ where his friend had left them . . . and Houdini, the world’s greatest escapologist, was unable to gain entry by picking the lock.
After much deliberation on what was the best way of opening the car door, they had to ask a policeman to help!
You couldn’t make it up!
Just space for one more . . .
After years of playing Number Two (second rate) theatres, comedian Walter Niblo was offered a week’s booking in a Number One – the prestigious Metropolitan in Edgware Road.
Walter turned up at the Monday morning band call with his ancient band parts (sheet music for the band to play him on and off) in a shocking condition – stained, torn and held-together with sticky tape.
The band leader, Ivan Dozin, disdainfully poked at them with his baton and said “These band parts are filthy, disgusting and deplorable!”
Walter replied “Wait until you see my act!”

Let’s be honest, creativity is a wild ride, more like a rollercoaster of ideas than a disciplined writing process.
Picture this: a clown car bursting with one-liners instead of a neatly organised desk. That’s my life in a nutshell!
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been lugging around my trusty little black book.
No, it’s not a secret agent’s diary, though that would be pretty cool.
Instead, it’s my personal vault for every fleeting thought and ridiculous observation that flits through my mind like a butterfly on a sugar high.
If I don’t jot down every spark of brilliance, those gems vanish faster than a magician’s rabbit. Poof! Gone!
Trust me, I’ve had enough “oops, that was a great idea” moments to know that my little black book is a treasure chest of lost genius.
I’ve become a collector of these books, with a staggering 60 scattered throughout my home. I even keep one by my bed because, let’s face it, the best ideas usually strike just as I’m about to drift into drooling sleep.
But here’s the twist: my writing speed is so fast that my notes sometimes resemble ancient hieroglyphics. I could probably start my own archaeological dig to decipher my own thoughts!
Yet, despite the chaos, this quirky obsession brings me immense joy.
One day, I’ll crack open these whimsical time capsules and embark on a journey through the hilarious history of my mind.
Nostalgia may be that one friend who always shows up late to the party, but when it does, it knows how to make an entrance.
So, here’s to the wonderfully zany world of creativity.
Keep your little black book close, embrace the madness, and prepare for a comedy of memories that will leave you chuckling (or scratching your head) for years to come.
Remember, every laugh, scribble, and chaotic thought is part of the show. Happy writing!

PEOPLE in rural communities feel isolated when their local bus services are reduced because they aren’t economically viable.
This particularly applies to anyone who’s given up driving for health reasons or because driving is less pleasurable than when they first got behind a steering wheel.
There are villages that do provide an early morning bus to take you to the nearest town to do your shopping, but you have to hang around all day to catch a late afternoon service back home.
There were better bus services in the ’40s!
Reduced timetables and council cutbacks mean that even in some urban areas you’re more likely to witness The Abominable Snowman riding on the back of the Loch Ness Monster than see more than one bus an hour.
A friend tells me that after 50 years of leaving at 11.00pm, his last bus from town (which was always packed with people who’d been making merry) now leaves at 9.00pm!
That’ll be five minutes before all the pubs and restaurants in town close for the night!
So let’s applaud comedian and BBC Radio Wales broadcaster Owen Money for creating an entertainment experience that people without cars can enjoy without worrying about how they’re going to get home after dark.
“One Foot In The Groove” is a daytime dancing show for Over-30s that’ll feature many of the songs (and jokes!) that Owen treats the nation to on his Saturday and Sunday morning radio shows.
Owen will be playing original hits of the 60s, 70s and 80s and there’ll be live music, courtesy of his talented daughter Katie, who’ll be belting out a selection of jukebox favourites.
The tour starts at Blackwood Miners Institute on Thursday June 19 and, among other venues, will call in at Swansea’s Patti Pavilion on Friday July 11 and Llanelli’s Ffwrnes Theatre on Saturday August 9.
Just phone the venues or check their websites for times and ticket prices.
The great thing about it is, you can be home in time for tea. Unless you want to keep one foot in the groove and go clubbing afterwards!

Ah, summer is finally here. And, I don’t know about you, but my mood is soaring higher than a seagull eyeing a chip!
Just last week, I took a delightful stroll along the Llanelli coastal path towards Burry Port – and, let me tell you, the scenery here is so stunning it could make a postcard blush.
Now, I know many of you have already booked your holidays to far-off sunny destinations, lured in by those tempting deals from local travel agents.
But let’s be real: is it really cheaper to jet off overseas than to bask in the beauty of our own Wales?
I mean, who needs a crowded beach in Spain when you can have the breathtaking views of our coastline right here?
Sure, money might be tight for some, but everyone deserves a little slice of relaxation with their loved ones.
A leisurely walk down the seafront in Mumbles can whisk you away from life’s daily grind, especially when the sun is shining and the tide is in. It’s like therapy, but with fewer fees and more ice cream!
So here’s my challenge to you: give me your three best reasons why people should flock to this part of Wales this summer. The most compelling case will win a personalised gift from yours truly!
Let’s show the world that beautiful Wales is the place to be this summer, because who needs a plane ticket when you have the magic of home?

Isn’t it funny how something that occurred in the past can have a profound effect today.
For example, the man who invented the TV remote control all those years ago could never have envisaged how grateful we are in 2025 that he included the ‘Mute’ button.
Or imagined the two main reasons we owe him our gratitude – Davina McCall and Alan Carr.
Which reminds me, I recently heard that the man who invented the TV remote control had passed away.
Apparently, his wife came home one afternoon and found him down the back of the sofa. She told the coroner that, in recent weeks, he’d been acting rather remote.
I cherish my remote control because my way of watching programmes containing advertisements is to record them and catch up with them later, so I can fast-forward through the ads . . . and the dull parts.
My remote gets a lot of use during shows like “The Most Shocking TV Moments of the 60s (or 70s)” etc.
Not only because most of the clips they include wouldn’t shock an unworldly trainee vicar, but also because these shows run to more than two hours.
Two hours plus of alleged celebrities, all of whom are chosen from the same shallow pool, pretending to be horrified by clips from 70s sitcoms, can be exhausting.
Viewers watch a clip. Then we watch the ‘celeb’ watching the clip. Then we watch them describing what we’ve already watched and why they think it’s outrageously shocking.
What is the point?
The fact is, we’ve all seen these same clips at least a dozen times before – without being mortified.
But then, we don’t trouser a fee to pretend we are.
It’s ironic that these ludicrously padded-out shows are on the same channel that produces modern TV ‘classics’ like “Britain’s Favourite Chocolate Bar” and “Britain’s Favourite Biscuit”, which must get a fraction of the viewing figures that those unfairly maligned 70s sitcoms would have enjoyed.
In 40 years, will they make shows in which ‘celebs’ sit around ‘Tut-Tutting’ at shocking clips of “Britain’s Favourite Crisp”?
I hope I’m around to find out!

As the sun blazes down on Wales (well it was when I wrote this), it’s time to tackle the real dangers of soaking up those rays.
Nobody wants to end up looking like a human tomato, a lobster, or, heaven forbid, a raisin.
Before you step outside, remember to slather on sunscreen like it’s your last line of defence against a fiery apocalypse (because, let’s be honest, it kind of is).
And, for the love of all that is fashionable, wear a hat! Unless you’re keen on being mistaken for a crustacean at a beach barbecue, that is.
Now, let’s talk about hydration.
Drink water like you’re a camel preparing for a desert trek.
Your skin will thank you, and so will your friends, who won’t have to disguise you as a picnic snack.
Seriously, no one wants to be the friend who shows up looking like a wrinkly old prune!
And while you’re at it, lather on that lotion like you’re frosting a cake. You don’t want to be the walking vegetable at the summer barbecue, do you? “Oh look, there’s Gary, the sun-dried tomato!”
In summary, enjoy the sunshine, but don’t let it turn you into a walking seafood dish or dried-up fruit.
Your skin will thank you, and your friends will appreciate not having to explain why they brought a salad to the party instead of you
So, go forth and bask wisely!

I love newspaper and magazine cartoons. To amuse readers with a small drawing, accompanied by a brief caption, is an art.
I’d like to create one made up of two panels.
The first shows an immaculate female assistant in a babywear shop that has a sign saying ‘MOTHERCARE’.
The adjoining panel would show a similar shop, but the assistant has curlers in her hair, scruffy clothes and a ciggie dangling from the corner of her mouth. The sign behind her says ‘MOTHER DON’T CARE’.
If that didn’t make you smile, as Frankie Howerd used to say, “Oh, please yourselves!”
Talking of ‘Care’, when you phone large companies for information there seems to be a lack of customer care.
A mate of mine had cause to phone his insurance company, the name of which I will not  mention.
Older readers will know which one, if I reveal the company’s HQ is in the city where Nicholas Parsons’ ‘Quiz of the week . . . Sale Of The Century’ came from.
That day he’d received a letter from the company containing information completely contradicting the contents of a letter they’d sent him two weeks previously. So, he phoned them for clarification.
After going through the tortuous ‘Press 1 for this, Press 5 for that’ (Press 99 for aspirins’ procedure!), he was put through to a real person.
A real person with a real attitude as it turned out.
My mate’s initial “Hello?” was met with silence for a few seconds.
Then a rather disinterested male voice said, “Yes?” . . . like Basil Fawlty being interrupted during his tea break.
Each attempt by my mate to explain why he was calling was met with a (seemingly) contemptuous silence before the male voice responded in a desultory manner.
Fearing he still hadn’t explained himself clearly, my mate continued to elaborate, only to be rudely interrupted by a waspish “If you let me finish!”
Oh boy!
Hardly the ‘caring’ way to address a customer whose ‘Call is important to us’?
After hearing the full story, I suggested the chap’s name might be the same as his manner . . . Curt!
Oh, please yourselves!

As we grow older, the urge to declutter and organize our surroundings becomes almost irresistible.
Last weekend, I decided to embark on a noble mission, cleaning out the garden shed. Little did I know that this seemingly mundane task would turn into a delightful adventure filled with laughter, nostalgia, and a few surprises.
Armed with determination and a pair of gloves, I opened the creaky door to my shed, only to be greeted by a cloud of dust and a blast from the past.
The shed, once a sanctuary for my tools, had transformed into a treasure trove of forgotten memories.
Amidst the cobwebs and rusty tools, I stumbled upon a box labelled “Childhood Treasures.”
Curiosity piqued, I eagerly lifted the lid and was transported back to a time when life was much simpler. There, nestled among worn-out toys and faded photographs, were relics of my youth.
I couldn’t help but chuckle as I unearthed a collection of marbles, each with its own story. These tiny spheres, once the currency of childhood games, held a certain magic that had long been forgotten.
In the corner of the shed, I discovered a dusty old record player.
With a sense of nostalgia, I wiped off the dust and set the needle on a vinyl record. The crackling sound filled the shed, transporting me back to a time when music was cherished without the distractions of modern technology.
But the surprises didn’t end there.
I stumbled upon a forgotten journal, where my younger self had poured out dreams and musings. Reading my own words, I marveled at the resilience and innocence that had shaped my journey.
As I continued my cleaning spree, I realised the shed held more than just physical items; it held memories and a reflection of who I had become.
So, dear reader, take a moment to revisit your own forgotten treasures. You never know what hidden gems await you.
As for me, the garden shed may still need tidying up, but my heart feels lighter, my spirit uplifted, and my journey through life enriched by the rediscovery of forgotten treasures.

MY guess is that you’re a well-informed person with your finger on the pulse of what’s going on in the world – even though it’s been tough to assimilate so much of it lately and still stay sane!
I would imagine that, apart from being a regular reader of this esteemed publication, you also peruse the printed pages of other periodicals. And, in doing so, you’ll have noticed that some of these papers (not, let me make it clear, this one) tend to use the same phrases in their headlines almost every day, hoping to catch the eye of the reader.
One current favourite is to claim that someone in the public eye ‘BREAKS SILENCE’ about his or her marriage split/latest boob enhancement/financial woes/lost budgie etc etc.
I’ll put my cards on the table right now and admit that nine times out of 10, I have no idea who these people are who’ve decided to ‘break their silence’.
That’s probably due to the fact I haven’t watched any TV soaps since the time Ena Sharples ruled Coronation Street (is she still there, by the way?)
I never watch reality shows; and, being over 21, I pay scant attention to ‘What’s hot and what’s not’ in the pop charts.
I thought Drake was the bloke who fended off the Spanish Armada in 1588 and that Chelsea Handler was the manager of a London-based Premier League football team.
Consequently, I don’t know why or for how long these people have, apparently, been quietly biting their tongues, waiting for the right moment to ‘break their silence’ – and to be honest, I really don’t care.
Having said that, there is one Z-list ‘Silence Breaker’ I cannot help be aware of, because every couple of months this desperate attention-seeker (who doesn’t appear to possess any particular talent other than the mysterious ability to attract the attention of the tabloids) reportedly ‘BREAKS SILENCE’ about an allegedly ‘sensational’ weight loss.
In fact, this person ‘BREAKS SILENCE’ so frequently about losing weight, it begs the question, was there any period in recent times when they were ever silent!

Have you ever stopped to appreciate the delightful quirks of everyday life?
You know, those little moments that make you chuckle and remind you that the world is a wonderfully weird place?
Let’s take a moment to celebrate the absurdities that keep us smiling.
First up, let’s talk about the classic “lost sock” phenomenon.
You do the laundry, and somehow, one sock mysteriously vanishes into the abyss.
Is there a sock-eating monster lurking in your dryer?
Or perhaps they’ve formed a secret society, plotting their escape to a land where mismatched socks reign supreme.
Either way, it’s a reminder that life is full of surprises, some of which are just plain silly.
Then there are the supermarket encounters . . .
You’re minding your own business, trying to remember if you need more peanut butter, when suddenly you spot someone in the cereal aisle, deep in conversation with a box of Frosted Flakes.
“Tony, you’re right! I should definitely try that new recipe!”
It’s moments like these that make you wonder if you’ve stumbled into a sitcom.
And let’s not forget the joy of autocorrect fails.
You send a sweet message to your friend, only for your phone to turn “I miss you” into “I mistook you for a potato”.
Suddenly, you’re left explaining why you’re comparing your best friend to a starchy vegetable. But, hey, at least it gives you both a good laugh!
So, let’s embrace the quirks and oddities of life!
Whether it’s a lost sock, a supermarket chat, or a hilarious autocorrect blunder, these moments remind us to find joy in the unexpected.
After all, life is too short to take seriously. Let’s celebrate the funny side of everyday life.