6 December

Right, I’m off to post myself to my own address. Back in a Jiffy.

Right, I’ve got to help my neighbour Maureen get into her garage. Back in a Mo.

I think I should be knighted for my work on out of body experiences. Then again, I don’t want to get above myself.

By day I work as a tightrope walker, by night I spin plates on stage. It’s a bit of a balancing act.

Just been in a pub where all the seats made sheep noises when you sat on them. They were baa stools.

I’ve just written a “Deer John” letter to my stag lover. I’m a real hart breaker.

I’ve just been to see a medium who said my father was on the spirit level. Which is good because I want to get things straight with him.

The Body Shop has a half price sale on their new Creosote Oil for Men range. I might treat myself.

I keep knocking on the Pearly Gates and running away. I’m a God botherer.

Instead of my anticipated day off I’ve got to go and re-route the town river. Dam and blast it.

I love my sedan chair, it’s… hey, wait!… stop!… put me down!… fucking hell… stop! Sorry, I got a bit carried away there.

I stood up in front of 200 delegates and said: “It’s under the mat.” It was my key note speech.

My sister’s latest boyfriend is Joe Hart. She reckons this one is definitely a keeper.

My favourite eggs are Faberge eggs. You just can’t beat ’em.

Texans were devastated to discover that they live in the world capital of extra-marital relationships. What a sad state of affairs.

I had to close down my gym for inanimate objects. Things just didn’t work out.

They’ve called off the inter-office five-a-side tournament at the Bryant & May returns department. Allegations of match fixing.

I can’t believe I’m going to a men’s magazine themed fancy dress party. I must be Nuts.

I can’t believe I’m going to a bar snacks themed fancy dress party. I must be nuts.

Norwich City Council say they’re cutting back on the gritting they do on Grape’s Hill. It’s a slippery slope.

My brother has started to believe that my parents built him from a kit. We’re thinking of having him sectioned.

I’ve just received a parcel that was tied together with video tape. It was recorded delivery.

My mate reckons that this year’s Miss Nude Page 3 competition will be the event of the year. I’ll be the judge of that.

I’ve just buried my record collection, my jewellery and my antique furniture in the snow. I’m freezing my assets.

I refused to take a job working down the sewer. It’s beneath me.

Am I really going to move to Llansainffraidglynceiriog? It’s hard to say.

There’s a talking piglet stuck to my chest that I can’t get off. I’m such a Babe magnet.

I’ve just buried a big wad of cash in the snow. It’s my slush fund.

Is it indecently early for me to apply for Bernard Matthews’ old job? I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.

So Bernard Matthews is dead? Stuff him.

It took me ages to decide whether to chuck out my Habitat sofa accessories. In the end I just threw cushion to the wind.

I just tried to give my wife a hug but, as usual, I got it the wrong way round. Ugh.

I’ve just been given my own BBC talk show. Don’t worry, I’m having you on.

All I can think about is a wooden brick that’s always going crazy. It’s a mental block.

I was a bag of nerves while watching the Internal Organs 100m Dash. My heart was racing.

My wife’s just threatened to stick my lips together with a tube of Bostick. That’s a very glue me prospect.

Once again I’m lying on the sofa thinking about being deep underground and digging for coal. It’s always been a dream of mine.

I won’t be able to attend the royal wedding because I’ll be watching Stir Crazy that day. Yes, I have a Pryor engagement.

I see Cosmopolitan have been quite sniffy in their article about popular holiday destinations. Mag aloof.

I’ve just spent £200 on a bespoke ruler. It was made to measure.

A convicted arsonist who burnt down a deodorant factory has just won £3 million on the Lottery. He’s a Sure fire winner.

I proposed to my girlfriend with a diamond encrusted steam iron. It was a pressing engagement.

I really must return my neighbour’s herbs. It’s not good to be living on borrowed thyme.

I saw one of Ken Dodd’s Diddy Men driving underneath a small windmill. He was in a miniature Golf.

I keep nipping into Habitat to remove the coverings from their floor lamps. I’m a standard barer.

Blimey, there’s a lot of fat on this pork. I think I’ll make a Mama Casserole.

I trained my horse how to make cheese. But he fell at the first curdle.

I see Ken Dodd’s turned to religion. He’s become a By Jover’s Witness.

My French rodent really loves the villain in the Harry Potter films. Vole d’Amour.

I’m eating a bowl of fabric conditioner. It’s Comfort food.

I’ve just given the jet packs I made for the Pet Shop Boys to Ron and Russell Mael. Sparks will fly.

I asked my local TV station if they could do a report on my lost eiderdown. They gave it blanket coverage.