Weeellll, you press 1 for the money, 2 for the show...

Thangyewlaydeesangenlemen

*clicks fingers* *points* *deep fries a squirrel*

It's cold outside, isn't it? And dark. Windy. Wet.

This is because it's winter. What better time of year to moot the idea of a summer picnic for The Massive. Well, yes, summer.

Be that as it may, as I sit here in my layers I recall a wheeze I had in late summer last year to do with gathering The Massive into a large green public space. To sit on tartan blankets in the afternoon sun chewing on egg sandwiches and spitting out crumbs in vociferous defence of REM, Adele, The Go! Team, Elbow, Etta James, et al.

I thought one of the major parks in London would do the job rightly (sorry to all the non-London based Massivistas - another south-centric idea). On a Saturday or a Sunday in either June, July or August 2012.

Because the evening Mingles work so well and friendships exist I thought it might be a good plan to use a daytime to open things up to the Massive's significant others. Bring along wives, husbands, partners and children and make a mini-festival style gsthering. A Mingival, even. Get a game of rounders going with any children we might have. Kick a ball around. Play some cricket. Sit on wobbly arse and eat cake and pour scorn. That's a sport as well. It is. Though anyone seen cheerily lobbing a frisbee anywhere near me will be walking home bandy-legged and wincing.

As I say I originally had this idea in late summer last year. Very late. Hannah and Drakeygirl were consulted before I did anything stupid and they talked me down by pointing at calendars, so I shelved the thought till now.

So, what say you? It's far too early to actually arrange anything, but would you think it's a go-er? Would enough of you want to come along if we can find a date amongst the holiday season?

Remember: No frisbees.

Let's hear that announced in the club style.

'A-hoophooderhyewwwdeeherruppahdoopahhheyy'

Literally.

What's currently at your eyeline above your PC/laptop/iphone screen right now?

Me: St Pauls, Blackfriars Bridge, HMS President and a lot of building work.

Has any band gone on stage in Middlesbrough and said 'Hello Cleveland'?

Because if I was in one and playing there then I would.

For the insertion of the whoseline online link.

This being a website containing each and every episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway broadcast, both in the UK and the US.

My wife and I became immense fans of the US version after picking up a few stray episodes of it on 5 USA last year.

I have to recommend it to you. Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and Wayne Brady in full flight are comic joys to behold.

Now we can watch ALL OF THEM! And we will too.

Thank you very much to Word for making that one known.

Drove up from Berkshire with my wife and daughter to my native North East for a family visit/seaside holiday earlier this month.

As we hit the final 20 mile approach we passed the services at Washington. It's a little known fact, which I'm happy to share with you all now, that for a long time in the 1970's these marked the limit of the known universe.

Or at least the universe of one little fat lad, occasionally to be found on the back seat of his Dad's green Triumph 2000 on a rare trip 'South' to the badlands of Peterlee or the blasted desolate plains of Hetton-le-Hole.

A trip past Washington Services meant a 'journey'. A 'long drive' and possibly even the use of clean (and pressed!) pyjamas in a far distant cousin's bed that same night. I still recall a christmas we spent with an aunt and uncle in York and being sat on the back seat for hours (looking back it would have been just over one) and the sheer exhaustion and dislocation I felt when we arrived. In the dark!

Equally, driving back north, as we passed Washington Services that meant we were back on home ground. Only another 30 minutes and I'd back at our house. Back to a proper tea and our telly, which I was allowed to switch over.

So. Where was the limit of your world when you were growing up? Which boundary can't you pass these days without a wry smile at the infinite smallness of your childhood?

It's nothing important so please don't fight any urge you may have to skip past this.

Locked indoors in a holiday cottage in Beadnell by the recent monsoons with a little girl obsessed with Disney's 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks' it occured to me, with no little force, that when Angela Lansbury dons her black horn rimmed reading glasses in some scenes she looks like Alan Bennett in drag.

You'll all be looking now.

Man goes into a fish an chip shop with a cod under his arm.

'Do you sell fishcakes?, he says.

'Sorry no we don't', says the owner.

'That's a shame' says the man pointing at the cod. 'It's his birthday.'

*switches off revolving bow tie. Also removes long shoes and puts doors back on car*

At 12pm each Thursday at work we all have to troop into the middle of the office for one of the head honcho's to give us an update.

It's called a 'Town Square' meeting and I believe quite common.

I don't mind these. Sometimes they're useful.

After about 5 minutes of attention I do tend to let my mind drift and let it settle elsewhere. Guitars, cupcakes, etc. What snaps me back into listening mode is the moment the floor is thrown open to anyone who wants pass on some news or make a comment. One lad did so today. Some waffle about a social event he's trying to organise.

I was deeply thrown by his last comment - he was going send round an all star female to canvas opinion. For a moment I was highly aroused. A wonder woman lookalike was going to ask me how I wanted to spend an evening?!

But no. As the mists cleared I realised what he'd really said was 'All Staff Email'. I re-set my trousers to Defcon 5.

Anymore amusing or embarrasing mis-heard or misunderstood comments from you?

Ron Sexsmith - current tunesmith de jour. Graham Moffatt - sidekick to Will Hay

Ever seen in the same room together? No. One of them died years ago. Stunning similarity nonetheless.

A tailor friend of mine has just been promoted.

He's been making great strides recently.

Well, that appears to be it.

Convince those around you that you're a millionaire by stating your profession in a silly French accent.

Happy Friday.

Any more ridiculous jokes to propel us into the weekend?

Prompted by Tom's 'I Have Never' thread and his statement that he has never owned a 12 inch vinyl lp, it set me wondering as to the last time I ever bought one.

For me it was 1989, In Step by Stevie Ray Vaughan.

Can you recall the last vinyl lp you bought?

Happy New Year. I hope you're all well.

Just to let the London lot know that Rob Young's book on British Folk Music, 'Electric Eden', is stacked up by the tills in the Earlham Street branch of Fopp for £3 a go.

A saving on the list price of £17.99 of, er... (is it 14?) yes £14.99.

As the guy behind the till who served me said, 'It'll have cost them more than 3 quid to print it'. Quite so. Nonetheless there they are.

This has already made my week. More so than finding myself in the queue at WH Smiths in Maidenhead yesterday standing behind Timmy Mallett. Oh yes.