Tunnels!

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b03gvsln
</giggle>

I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue

As I mentioned previously, I've wanted to see a recording of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue since I first started listening to Radio 4. I can remember realising that people actually got to be in the audience for the show and desperately wanting to be part of that. Tonight I was lucky enough to do exactly that.

What could be better than just getting to see I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue? Well, being there for the first recording of the 60th series was pretty great. But discovering that John Finnemore was
the guest panelist was unexpectedly amazing.

It's not stalking if it's accidental. Definitely.

The recording was at the Playhouse Theatre, Weston-super-Mare. It started at 7:30 and we weren't finished until 10:30 (with a short interval, ideal for sorting out car park faffage). I don't envy the person who has to decide what to cut to get that down to two half-hour shows. Though quite a bit of the time was spent re-recording Jack Dee's lines. Tonight Weston leaned a valuable lesson about the pronunciation of "Danube".

The first show will be broadcast 11th November, listen out for anyone laughing a little more than everyone else and that'll probably be me. It was hilarious. The letter from Queen Victoria to Isambard Kingdom Brunel was my highlight, without a doubt. Though Barry Cryer twerking is something I won't forget in a hurry!

In finishing all I can say is: "Tunnels" Oh. And.... Da-noob

John Finnemore, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Jack Dee, Jon Naismith, Graeme Garden, Barry Cryer.
You'll have to trust me on that.

A Lifetime Ambition

Okay, not a lifetime but certainly over twenty years worth of ambition:

When I got an e-mail from the I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue mailing list on Thursday, I did a true double-take as I realised that Clue would be coming to Weston. Followed quickly by an e-mail out to my family to share the excitement. 

My initial plan was to be on the phone as the line opened at 10:00am but, fortunately, I decided to drive over and get tickets in person. Thanks to road closures for a marathon, I was a little later than I'd planned but I was still surprised by the length of the queue when I got there.

09:36

I was even more surprised when the theatre man told us that they were expecting seats to go so quickly that, although they'd do their best, some people in the queue probably wouldn't get tickets. It was a tense wait and, once the doors opened, all the successful early birds had to suffer our envious glares as they left clutching tickets.

My technologically-clued-in section of the queue were exploiting smart phones to their full potential. One man was ringing the box office, I alternated the phone and website, while another updated us on his wife's progress at home (we cheered every time she reported that the website timed out). The theatre staff kindly updated us on the number of tickets they'd sold and, very slowly, it became clear that we were probably going to be lucky.

Some grumpy queuers seemed to feel that everything was taking too long, my section quietly expressed the opinion that it was a very un-Radio-4 attitude and they should be ejected from the queue. We also plotted to cut the phone lines, let a dog into the manager's office to attack the electrics and further jam the phone lines every time we saw the kiosk staff come to the end of a call. 

Fortunately, in the end we didn't have to resort to dirty tricks and I'm now the proud owner of tickets to see I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue! Perhaps the best thing I overheard while waiting was "I'm looking forward to finding out what gender Samantha is." I think someone's going to be disappointed...

A Taster Menu

"I'd quite like to listen to more radio comedy," my brother-in-law said on the weekend. Well, that's not an opportunity I can ignore!

There are two things - okay, maybe three things - that I feel passionate about to the extent that I try to convert unsuspecting friends. The two important ones are knitting and radio. On a good day, data is the third. I'll admit that I've had most luck with knitting.

So here's a chance to introduce someone to radio comedy and all the things I love about it. And, in true Radio 4 style, this has become a sort of Desert Island Discs-style challenge: What eight radio programmes would I pick to introduce someone to radio comedy? And, while we're at it, why are there no synonyms for comedy or programme that begin with D?

The rules for this thought experiment are straightforward: Pick eight programmes that showcase different aspects of radio comedy for a new listener. Each programme can be represented by just one series (not one episode, I'm not that hard on myself) and they must be broadcast on Radio 4 or 4 Extra (because where else are you going to get your radio comedy?).

The short list is a long one and difficult to narrow down.

It's easy to overlook staples like The News Quiz and I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue that I think we all take for granted as the backbone of radio comedy. The most interesting constraint as far as I can see is the fact that it has to be aimed at a new listener. Ed Reardon's Week cracks me up but is it a little too grumpy-radio-4 for a newcomer? Does Bleak Expectations take a bit too long to click? Where is the line between comedy and comedy-drama? Does it even matter?

More importantly, what are these key aspects of radio comedy that I feel I need to include? Something satirical, a panel show, something surreal, something that was translated into TV? Well, okay, the News Quiz ticks all those boxes at times but I think that may be cheating.

If people raise an eyebrow when I say I'm a radio 4 listener (something tha happens less and less now I'm in my thirties) it's always comedy that I use to respond. I list all the programmes that started on Radio 4 and made their way to TV. Sometimes they're surprised, mostly they just look at me like I'm a bit of a nut. But it always reminds me of the huge variety of comedy that Radio 4 produces.

I don't have my eight Desert Island Synonym-For-Comedy-Beginning-With-Ds yet, but I''m enjoying thinking about it and the sheer wealth of comedy that I have to pick from.

It was a week before Christmas and all through the house...

...there wasn't a sound except for occasional, irrational giggling.

As a certified Christmas nutcase the last two weeks of the year are, without a doubt, my favourite. I have too much childish joy for this season to concentrate it all into a single day. I finished work on Friday, which means that it is now officially Christmas as far as I'm concerned. That means an excess of eggnog lattes, snowflake earrings, mulled wine and Christmas radio.

But this year I feel like I must have got ahead of the season somehow. I know there are a large number of people that seem to take great pleasure in complaining about how early Christmas starts each year but surely they can't all have joined forces to delay it this year? Only in the last couple of days have I heard any adverts for Christmas radio and I've yet to catch a single festive drama. With only a week to go, surely that can't be right?

Fortunately I've a wealth of Christmas radio recorded from previous years so I have been wandering around in my own festive Radio 4 bubble, giggling wildly at old episodes of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue and Ladies of Letters.

I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue has a special place in my heart at Christmas. I think I was probably about 14 when I began to realise that my crazy, childish love of Christmas was changing. I was growing up and, although all the incredibly specific, detailed traditions would remain (and still do), I didn't take the same joy in just opening presents and running round eating far too much chocolate. I had to find my own definition of what Christmas was going to mean as I got older.

At that point I'd long ago realised that Radio 1 wasn't technically compulsory for teenagers and I'd found my spiritual home in Radio 4. For all that I looked forward to Christmas day as a whole, one of the most exciting prospects was a special Christmas day episode of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. We had a fantastic morning, with the requisite presents and chocolate and wonderful fun with my family but my clearest memory is going back up to my room for a lovely chilled out half-hour while I listened to a crazy and impossibly festive half hour. I don't remember what I was given that year, except for the giggles.

I'm not saying that radio is the most important part of Christmas. That's my family and always will be. But Christmas radio still plays a really, really important part in my festive preparations. The cheesy, the silly and the emotive. They're all there for me while I'm on my own preparing for that one great day with my family. They all add up to that crazy mix of emotions that form Christmas. They're the reason I can carry my festive spirit all bright and shining through the next two weeks. They're the reason I have the most epicly decorated bank of desks in the office and they accompany me as I decorate my 3.5 Christmas trees and bake eight batches of mince pies.

But I now find myself in an almost unprecedented situation at this point in December: I've almost exhausted my supply from previous years already. I've even listened to The National Theatre of Brent's "The Greatest Story Ever Told", something I normally save for Christmas-Eve-Eve. I'm holding back on last year's Marley Was Dead but that's about all I've got in the bank for this week.

So this is a desperate plea to Radio 4 and 4 Extra: It's time to bring the Christmas radio, like a Dickensian white Christmas snowfall.