An early start in the morning: I'm booked on the 07.55 Waveney Flyer from Lowestoft to Liverpool Street, in order to attend the Oldie of the Year beano for the (I think) 12th year in a row. It is, quite simply, the best show in town. Sir Terence Wogan will officiate, as ever. He'll do the same jokes, as ever. We'll love every last punchline, as ever. The great and the good have their gongs. The Oldie tends to recognise only the good. Long may it continue.
Having such an early start, I should have retired about 10pm with cucumbers over the eyes (not slices, whole cucumbers - I'm a heavy sleeper). Instead, I type at 02.13, having watched a shedload of Tonight Shows with Conan O'Brien and Johnny Carson. Any amount of lost sleep is justified by this 1969 Carson gag:
"On the way here, I stopped to watch a Hollywood funeral. That sounds callous, but in New York, you don't often get to see a topless kazoo player riding a yak."
I'd never heard of Johnny Carson until I saw him stitch up (with the help of James Randi) Uri Geller like a kipper. It is one of my favourite bits of television ever.
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