EP.242 - RICHARD AYOADE

I added one more podcast to the giant podcast bin.

Now you have plucked that podcast out and started listening.

I took my microphone and found some human folk.

Then I recorded all the noises while we spoke.

My name is Ad Buxton, I'm a man.

I want you to enjoy this, that's the plan.

Hey,

how you doing, podcats?

It's Adam Buxton here.

You may be able to hear that I'm not where I normally would be on my Norfolk farm track,

but instead I'm sitting on a bench in Victoria Park, East London.

It's a beautiful morning towards the end of the first third of April 2025, Trumpelstiltskin Tariff Times.

And I'm here for a few days days because I've been recording my audiobook in an actual studio with humans, which is nice, a nice change for me.

I did the first book, Ramble Book, in my nutty room in Norfolk during the lockdown in 2020.

And this time I was given the opportunity to record it in a studio.

I thought, yeah, that would be good.

So anyway, I thought I'd take this opportunity to get some fresh air before I head into the studio and record my intro and outro so I could get the podcast up for the weekend.

I'm looking out at people heading to work, going to school.

A lot of joggers, so many joggers.

Do they identify as joggers anymore?

They're runners, really, aren't they?

Very impressive.

I'm a few meters back from the main tarmac paths.

I found myself a semi-secluded spot.

Looks like a party spot.

A lot of ciggy butts, empty cans, pear cider, empty bottle of spritzy aperitivo blood orange flavor.

There's a can of original nourishment there, vanilla flavour, if anyone wants, there's still some left.

There is also a blue surgical glove.

There may have been some

procedures going on once the anesthetic had been taken on this bench.

That's a nice thought.

Anyway, look, let me tell you about podcast number 242.

This one features some deep pan waffle mmm with returning friend of the podcast, British writer, director, actor, and comedian Richard Ayuadi.

Now, of course, the other day I was talking to David Letterman, Dave, I call him, about Richard, and I was saying that he has many modes.

There's actor-comedian mode on display in TV comedies like Garth Marengi's Dark Place, The Mighty Boosh, Nathan Barley, and the IT Crowd.

There's presenter and panel show mode in which Richard has hosted shows like Gadget Man, Travelman, The Crystal Maze, and appeared on comedy panel shows including, most recently, Amazon's panel/slash game show series Last One Laughing, hosted by Jimmy Carr, in which Richard was one of the comedians alongside Bob Mortimer, Judy Love, Daisy Mae Cooper, Lou Sanders, Joe Wilkinson, and others trying not to laugh at each other's antics.

That show's been a big hit.

Richard is also a director who cut his teeth on Dark Place back in the day and then helmed a number of music videos.

Also a concert film for the Arctic Monkeys and two features so far.

There was 2010's Submarine starring Craig Roberts, Yasmin Page, Sally Hawkins, Noah Taylor and Paddy Considine and 2013's The Double starring Jesse Eisenberg and Mia Vasikovska.

I think I'm pronouncing that right.

I looked it up and that's what I got.

Richard has also appeared in front of the camera in films, including director Joanna Hogg's The Souvenir, parts one and two, where he played a pretentious director.

And he also popped up in Wes Anderson's Oscar-winning The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar.

This year, Richard appears in another Wes Anderson film, the comedy espionage thriller The Phoenician Scheme, due to be released on the 23rd of May in the UK.

And that film boasts a typically starry cast, including Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson, Benedicio del Toro, Tom Hanks, and Michael Serra.

And then you've got Richard's writer mode.

Last year, 2024, saw the publication of Richard's fifth book, The Unfinished Harold Hughes, in which he investigates the legacy of a mysterious writer, actor, and director who was in some ways remarkably similar to Richard himself.

Last year also saw the publication of Richard's sixth, seventh and eighth books, collections of the plays, poems, and screenplays of Harold Hughes.

And in case anyone thought he was being a bit lazy, his second book for children, The Fairy Tale Fan Club, was also published last year.

For my conversation with Richard, he was in what I would call relaxed, thoughtful chat mode.

We spoke face to face in London in March of this year, 2025, and there was a lot of film chat, as well as some deep waffling about the relationship between fans and their artistic artistic heroes, whether it was easy writing four books about a made-up guy, what Richard thought of David Letterman's enthusiasm for him and his work, the weirdness of doing interviews or recording podcasts for that matter, the art of putting yourself down, why Orson Welles hated Woody Allen, and why Mick Jones of The Clash makes Richard cry.

But we began by talking about the late David Lynch.

And by the way, the name of the co-writer of Straight Story, whose name I blanked on, on, was Mary Sweeney.

She wrote the screenplay with John E.

Roach and was the editor of many of David Lynch's films.

I'll be back at the end for a bit more waffle, but right now with Richard Ayawadi.

Here we go.

coat and find your talking hat.

As soon as you finish a film, people want you to talk about it.

And

the film is the talking.

The film is the thing.

So you go see the film.

That's the thing.

It's a whole thing.

And it's there.

And that is it.

Did you like David Lynch?

Oh, yeah.

I re-watched nearly everything he did before.

After he died.

No, before, just before, only because,

not for great reasons.

But Michael Sarah is in this Wes Anderson film and I knew he was in the new Twin Peaks.

And so I thought, oh, yeah, maybe I had put off watching it.

Because partly because the first time I watched Twin Peaks, it was too frightening.

And I just thought, I need to build in recovery fright time

for watching Twin Peaks, which means I need to watch it in the day, which means I'm not working.

So it's quite a hard thing to justify.

But I watched that and went, oh god, he's

amazing, still amazing.

And then went back and watched Wild at Heart.

Will you pull the microphone closer to you?

Yes, we're here.

I've never seen Twin Peaks.

It's good.

Why was it frightening?

Like, is it really?

Does it get in your head?

Yeah, yes.

In what way?

Well,

it's slow in a very confident way.

And then

within

the actual show, certain things happen that are about as

frightening a thought as possible to have, I'd say.

And there is a character in it called Bob who is the most terrifying person.

And I suppose it's, yeah, it's really

had something to do with evil, actual,

and not just wrong choices, evil, but full

cosmic, throughout, eternity,

indestructible

evil.

And that's quite concerning.

Yeah.

That was the thing about him, wasn't it?

That he did seem to believe in

a kind of supernatural version of evil

as distinct from just the terrible things that human beings are capable of.

Yes, he doesn't think it's probably soluble by better diet.

So, yeah, it's pretty big.

But he also seems to really believe in goodness, which I think is why it's so moving that you have these terrible things.

I guess like in Blue Velvet, that very moving exchange where

Karl McLuckland says, Oh,

why are there people like Frank?

But there's also this great beauty and goodness.

And

yeah.

Did you ever meet him?

No, no, never met David Lynch.

But there are certain figures you just feel close to, don't you?

You just, what they do is so impactful, and there seems something very truthful about what they do that you have a familiarity.

So, in a way, I have met it.

But David Bowie was like that, wasn't it?

Just everyone felt very connected to that person.

I think Bowie was a more complicated figure, though, because he had a streak, although this may be just me projecting, of self-loathing, I think.

He was so hypocritical and he was so anxious about what people thought of him.

And he was at war with himself.

Like half the time, he knew that that's not the way an artist should be.

An artist shouldn't care about what people think of what they do.

Right.

But he did care.

And his stated aim right from the start was to be a famous person.

And he knew that that was a fairly superficial goal.

Okay.

And yet he was this person who was, in many ways, totally original, even though the way he went about that was to be a magpie, to be an appropriator, to be all these things that an artist shouldn't really be, an authentic artist shouldn't really be.

Yes, I think there is a problem with the idea of authenticity because, you know, there's nothing new under the sun, I suppose.

And also, I was just reading about Francis Bacon.

Apparently, he went to one of the first showings of Geoffrey Bernard is Unwell.

The play.

The play, the Keith Waterhouse play, yes.

Right.

And Francis Bacon is in the play and comes on in some outfit that he wouldn't wear.

And he stood up and shouted in the play, when I don't wear anything like this.

I wear a Sauro suit.

And because I think he was dressed in a beret or something, you know, ridiculously on point and stormed out.

And you'd think of Francis Bacon as uncompromising, brilliant artist.

I think he cared a great deal about his reputation.

I think often

artists do, don't they?

I think most of them do, on some level,

if they are in any way connecting with their public, then of course they do.

And they're trying to manage how they come across and

they're wounded by criticism and they may show it in different ways, but I don't know anyone who's totally

you'd have to be a bit crazy, I think.

Yeah, or so

not to be affected, that is.

Yeah, kind of zipped up and immune.

I mean, David Lynch, his story wasn't that he was extremely negative and angry.

Was it kind of the clown suit of anger, he called it, until he started transcendental meditation and that was his kind of origin story of suddenly bliss and going inwards and all of those things.

But it'd be surprising if those things utterly left him.

I mean he wouldn't

be human.

But also I think if we give this another hour we'll get to the bottom of his personality and we can actually submit a diagnosis.

That's an amazing thing.

You really kind of speculate about people.

You go, what do I know about David Lynch?

Of course, yeah, but I mean, it's fun.

It's fun, and also,

in a way, you're,

I don't know, I always feel like you're just talking about what people are like in general, aren't you?

And maybe

what you're like a little bit.

And I mean that in the general sense, and also you, Richard, Iowa.

Oh, well, here's.

Can I ask you this?

Yes.

Here's something I'm interested in.

Say you really like

David Buryor.

Did you ever have moments where you went, I'm out, he's done something, I don't like it, I've lost interest, or did you feel, okay, he's done 10 great albums in a row, I'm gonna stick with him, or whatever.

Because I was thinking, like, I love Billy Wilder, but I haven't seen his last three or four films.

And I go, why is in some way trust the sort of critical massive judgment saying it wasn't really that good in the 70s, over the person who for 20 years has consistently

dazzled me for some reason.

And I wonder whether I'm just frightened, I don't want to be disappointed in what he does later.

But that seems

ridiculous.

Why don't I just watch these things?

Because he's capable of doing stuff that's not so good.

And why waste your time?

But why not trust someone?

who has

in terms of that knowing someone and really really liking what they do yeah I also feel the flip side of it is there's a really harsh relationship whereby it's like and not only do I love you you'd better not ever disappoint me

ever and not even in the smallest way because I've trusted you you don't know that because I've never met you but I have trusted you and

so I'm not going to watch buddy buddy because it might not be as good as the apartment.

But it probably

is full of really interesting, great things.

And why not?

Yeah.

Anyway, do you have that?

Yeah.

I know exactly where you're coming from.

And I know, because we've spoken about it before, that I'm like you in general.

Like once I'm on board, I'm fine.

Yeah.

With Bowie,

he did lots of stuff that was quite crap.

And so in a way, growing up as a Bowie fan in the 80s, the tone of your appreciation was like, I was getting into all the amazing stuff he did in the 70s, but at the same time, I was being confronted by this sillier stuff from the 80s, the Jareth years.

Okay.

And

then, you know, and then the tin machine stuff, which I couldn't even enjoy, like at least in the mid-80s.

Yep.

Never Let Me Down.

There's even bits of Never Let Me Down, I don't know.

Absolute beginners.

Absolute beginners is straightforwardly good, yeah.

Labyrinth.

I mean, I don't like a lot of the songs in Labyrinth.

I mean, I think I like all of the songs in Labyrinth.

I have to say, I just, you know, I'm really signed up.

And maybe, yeah, maybe it's trying not to have such a worshipful relationship so that it's okay if it's not exactly what you wanted.

Yes.

I tried to write about this in the book that I've just done.

And in the end,

just as it was being signed off, like just sort of going through the proof, whatever it's called, the copy-edited version,

and I got to the chapter about Bowie, and I'd written this whole chapter about 1995.

Me and Joe are working on Adam and Joe Show, the early version thereof.

And one of the things that we did in this development reel was a bit about reviewing David Bowie's new album, Outside, which he had done with Brian Eno.

And it was 15 years since they'd worked together on the Berlin trilogy.

Low, Heroes Lodger, three of my favorite Bowie albums, in the late 70s.

So it was very exciting as a Bowie fan, like, oh my god, he's back together with Eno.

Eno's not going to let him be shit.

This is going to be great.

And yet, when we heard Outside,

it was so not what I wanted.

And I wrote about all this, and then I sort of went back and revisited the album after he died because it's an album that people really love.

Like the Bowie fans say, oh, Outside, it's terrific.

Wasn't well received at the time, but actually, there's so much good stuff on there.

And Eno himself says, you know, that was was one that I really felt fell through the cracks a little bit.

And I was like, yeah, fell through my crack.

But then I thought.

That should be the title of your book.

And then I thought, well, I should go back and revisit it because I bet there's some good stuff on there.

I bet it's like one of your Missing Billy Wilder films.

It's Bowie.

I love Bowie, and I love Eno.

And sure enough, there is good stuff on there.

Yeah.

But I still don't like it.

There's some really, like, he does these

characters.

Yeah.

It was the first time he'd done characters since the late 70s, early 80s.

But anyway, ultimately, I removed the chapter from the book.

Well, because I just thought it's too deep level.

I'll put it on the audiobook as a bonus.

Oh, that's good.

Yes.

A deep bowie dive.

Yeah, yeah.

At the end of the audiobook, I think you get the missing bowie chapter.

Did you ever meet David Lynch?

No.

Tantalizingly, I have friends who know people who who were in his orbit.

Yep.

Like

blanking on her name, but she wrote straight story

with him.

Yeah, that's a great film, straight story.

Oh, yeah.

I watched that again the other day.

It's really good.

And it's so moving.

Yeah.

Harry Dean Stanton is pretty good, innit?

One scene.

At the end of the movie, as this guy's brother, the whole film, if you haven't seen it, listeners, is about...

Well, it's based on a true story, right?

Yeah.

About an old guy who has fallen out with his brother, and then he hears, like years ago, he's fallen out with his brother, and then he hears his brother is very ill and he travels cross-country hundreds of miles on a tractor mower.

Yeah,

he's too old to drive a car,

so there's like a loophole, which means that he's okay to drive his tractor mower.

So he drives himself cross-country to see his brother, almost because there's some element to the hardship being part of the journey.

Yeah, and almost somehow keeping him alive until he arrives, it feels.

Right.

But yeah, it's very beautiful.

And what, and explain the Harry Dean Stanton bit.

I just remember Harry Dean Stanton's face coming out when he comes out of a house and he's sort of just fresh.

He's just got that great

long equine face, doesn't move.

It's sort of western.

It's like an old western face, but also somehow punk as well.

He could be in the clash, Harry Dean Stanton, or he could be in a John Ford film.

I don't think I've seen it for 15 years, so I can't remember the scene.

I just remember

their two faces.

That's about it.

And just there's something very moving about the reconciliation

wanting to reconcile.

All of that is, yeah, incredibly powerful.

It's the climax of the movie and Harry Dean Stanton plays this guy's brother

and the actor playing the protagonist was Richard Farnsworth and yeah there's just one scene that must have only taken you know an afternoon to shoot I suppose

but it's amazing and it's all as you say all about Harry Dean Stanton's face and his roomy eyes

and the emotion in his eyes when he sees his brother and realizes how far he's come for him.

It's pretty good.

He's good at loss, Harry Dean Stanton, in Para-Texas.

He's the loss guy.

That's the thing about movies.

I heard you talking about what it is about film that you like and you mentioned things like the way that you can have these crazy juxtapositions.

You talked about the 2001 with the bone flying in the air suddenly being replaced by the space station and things like that.

And I love all those things too.

But yeah, when I think about what I love about films, it's generally those Harry Dean Stanton moments, something in the face, yeah.

The reaction shot and being able to somehow be very close to someone while they think,

and through an accumulation of knowledge about where that person is,

you can feel you're experiencing the thought and witnessing the thought at the same time.

It's almost,

yeah, it makes you a kind of supernatural entity

at that moment that you're able to understand things that you just couldn't ordinarily or feel you can feel things.

Yeah, amazing faces.

What is it about?

What is it about actors?

How do they do it, Richard?

How does

Anthony Hopkins is like that for me?

Like, he's

something about the intelligence in his face, the emotional intelligence.

Yeah.

I've only directed two films, but it is amazing when you see actors in somehow manage to inhabit

what began as some

writing, some text, and they are able to make it feel like they have thought of it and it's just emanating from their face.

I just it's unbelievable to me.

As someone singularly incapable of doing it myself, I just, you know, look like I'm in a call waiting to speak

and in some kind of freeze mode.

But say to take an example that springs immediately to mind, Jesse Eisenberg.

I directed him in something where he had to play two characters and he just through a series of internal adjustments could look entirely different.

But no makeup, no different costuming,

just different aspect, different, yeah,

was a different person.

I suppose that's what acting's meant to be in some way.

But yeah, it's extraordinary when you see it.

It seems to be sometimes, though, that really good actors in real life, I don't know about Jesse Eisenberg, you can tell me what he's like, maybe in real life, but often they are almost necessarily kind of ciphers in real life.

Yeah.

You know, De Niro

was famously someone who was possibly not electrically interesting in real life.

Yeah.

And yet, on camera, is able to channel all this deep feeling

yes and all I think there are so many things like in terms of physiognomy that suit an actor so say De Niro on a chat show I mean you talked about saying a boring sentence get a load of this one okay so I think on a talk show

all the lenses are far away so you're on some long lens it flattens you out if you think of those kind of great De Niro reactions it's the camera's moving in.

It's a Scorsese film, so it's generally moving in on a wide lens.

And he has

a really

what seems like an impassive face, but it's making these small micro adjustments, which I think in a wide lens

with a sensitive camera is incredible.

But way back with no real good thought to think of other than how do I promote this film on some long lens, it just looks kind of like nothing's happening.

So I wonder, yeah, I think it's the same sensitivity that makes him seem so subtle in a film that on a chat show looks like not enough.

I suppose the thing you need to do if you have Robert De Niro on your chat show, on Graham Norton, for example,

is to have Tom Hiddleston nearby to do an impression of him to his face.

That was a moment of some discomfort.

I can't get beyond that.

I mention it so often on this podcast.

It's a tricky one, isn't it?

Because

the impression

has merit.

Let that be said.

Oh, yeah, he's a talented person.

There's a lot to say about it.

But as to what Robert De Niro should be doing during it, I feel that question hadn't been properly investigated.

He handled it quite well.

Yeah, I think he did it well.

Yeah.

He didn't shoot him in the chest.

He didn't.

Yep.

He could have done a lot there.

Back to Graham Norton, though.

Yes.

I saw you there with Colin Farrell.

Colin Farrell.

Acting.

Yes.

You did a piece from Harold Hughes.

Yes.

It was the same piece called The Breakdown, which we did with your live show.

Yes.

With Lydia, my wife, and sorry, that's your line, isn't it?

But Lydia is my wife,

and Bennett Brandreth is called, very kindly read this poem about someone who's had a breakdown.

breakdown and Colin Farrell subbed in for them on the Graham Norton show.

He was very kind to do it.

And did you prep it in the green room or was it days before the interview?

There was very little preparation.

I think I've just sent it to him the day before.

Maybe he saw it just before.

But he's very humane and kind and as charming and

you know, delightful as you'd imagine.

He's a beautiful man.

He's a handsome man.

Oh my.

Just like looking in a mirror for me.

Yeah.

Well, I think you're a beautiful man.

I am.

Not enough people talk about the sheer physical impact I make in a room.

It's too little discussed.

You always look good.

So you are performing Harold Hughes on the Graham Norton Show.

Yes.

Slightly surreal experience, that must have been.

A strange moment.

The whole project is quite odd because it's, I suppose it's a written project, but you know, it's a book and

a group of books, unhelpfully enough.

But the idea is that I can sound like him within the conceit of the book, which is about this sort of royal court 1950s, 60s playwright.

And that I once saw an old volume of his in a second-hand bookshop and became obsessed with him and decided to find out about him and why he'd disappeared from the literary firmament.

So it's not like a, you know, I guess a comedy character which you would perform and work up and continues.

Harold Hughes is dead, all the writing's done, and so it's yeah, just talking about him.

But I like that tone of veneration people have.

As soon as anyone dies, oh he was very good, wasn't he?

Because he's over and I can't feel threatened in any way anymore.

So yeah, the whole conceit of it was can you create a character's entire creative life and output

in one go and release it and just the sheer monstrous hubris of that and presenting it as a very important

find

the the reissue culture you know we met before we did the show at the palladium yes this time last year exactly one year ago oh was it yeah good night

and

we talked about how were we going to talk about harold hughes and i should have detected a warning in that because i think you were very kindly and i very often don't listen,

and this could well be one of those moments.

I think you were gently saying,

Maybe

you really need to try and lay this out for this to be even moderately enjoyable for an audience.

Well, I was saying if it was me, I would be confused.

Yes.

Because

it was you.

It was.

And you were being you.

That's true.

Well, yeah, but I didn't know.

I would hope that the audience generally is more intelligent than I.

And

the audience is always more intelligent than everyone.

Sure.

That's the danger of the audience.

But I just thought, to what extent do we need to lay out what you're doing here?

Because it feels real, and the way you talk about it is real.

So it's like, well, is this a real guy?

Is this someone I've just never heard of?

Because it kind of intersects with people's insecurity about their own ignorance.

Yes, I did feel because, yes, so I think, yeah, I decided in my infinite lack of wisdom to talk about Harold Hughes, just like Harold Hughes existed,

maybe just to see what that would be like

and through your kind indulgence.

But I did get the sense

of a kind of awful liberal guilt.

Not that the guilt was awful, but I felt awful inflicting it, where people were going, I don't think I've heard of this person.

Does this make me bad?

That

I don't care enough to.

So that discomfort wasn't that enjoyable to be a part of

or to in fact be the cause of but but yeah it never felt like it should be a prank or one of those things where it's like ha look you fell for it and there is no person such as Harold Hughes but more just that sometimes it can be singularly dreadful to have to talk about anything that's meant to be funny seriously in any way and maybe it's just an attempt to avoid having to

talk about it.

Yeah, the David Lynch thing: the film is the talking.

And in an ideal world, someone would read one of the books and enjoy it, and hopefully, it's clear.

But the bit where you say, so it's about a writer, and here's a playwright, and the idea is that he stopped writing, and I have to find out why he stopped writing.

All of those things, even now, when I'm saying them, they're making me slightly stressed.

And I can imagine someone listening to it just going, oh, stop talking to me.

I don't want to, I I've just got the day to get on with.

Right now, explain to us where we're at with Harold.

Well, the way this book is going to exist is that there's a biography of Harold Hughes, who who I look like.

I look a lot like Harold Hughes.

But also, what's exciting is that his work is going to be published again for the first time.

And as well as a playwright and a screenplay writer, he was also a poet.

And he's written some pretty powerful pieces.

And very fortunately, we have two actors here to read one of his poems, Lavinia Lovelock and also Barnaby Rusk.

And I wonder whether they might be able to join us for a performance of one of his poems, which is called The Breakdown.

Is it a clapping situation or is that not a single page?

You know

I I think you can clap, for sure.

That would be wonderful.

Thank you very much to both of you for reading the poem.

They're actually doing a tour at the moment of some of Harold Hughes' key works.

Often the audiences for his work are in the double figures.

So this will be interesting to have this performance.

The breakdown.

Have you broken down?

I have broken down.

Where did the event take place?

It took place near my home.

How far from your home were you when the event took place?

I don't know how to get to my home.

Was the breakdown sudden, or were there warnings?

No one warned me.

Are you with anyone?

Or are you on your own?

I am on my own.

Was anyone else involved?

No one else is involved.

We are quite busy.

Are you okay to wait?

I have time,

but I'm not okay.

Are you insured?

I am not insured.

And what kind of car is your car?

I am not in a car.

Perhaps it is better to stay in the car.

I do not have a car.

You do realise that this is the AA.

I know who you are.

We help people who have broken down.

I have broken broken down.

People who have broken down in their cars.

And what about those who haven't?

Thank you so much.

And that was Barnaby Rusk.

Yes, that was Barnaby Rusk Rusk and Lavinia Lovelock.

Lavinia Lovelock.

So, thank you very much.

Well done.

It's very moving to be reminded about how powerful his work is, and in many ways, he was a mental health pioneer.

Is that in the book then, or is that do you have to buy one of the separate books?

That's in a separate book.

That's in the book, Pieces, Plays, Poems.

Harold Hughes.

Yes.

Thank you so much.

No, thank you.

Did you hear me trying to describe Harold Hughes to David Letterman?

Well, yes, you can't look.

You sent a clip to me of you talking to David Letterman, and I was so

more, well,

it's very kind.

Obviously, I'm going to have to change this to be my ringtone so that whenever I feel bad, I can somehow listen to this.

But I cannot understand why David Letterman has

he just seems very kind and I just don't feel in any way meriting of his interest.

I'm very grateful for it.

But

if I think of him, do you know when Future Islands was on David Lesserman?

Yeah.

And his reaction after Future Islands is the exact perfect reaction.

If you watch that whole thing and it was the first time, the kind of strange tension that you're held in, mesmerized tension of, wow, this is kind of amazing.

This is also quite a bit.

There's a lot of stuff here.

And I think he says something like, that's all you need.

It's some perfect expression of

the impact of it.

What was it about that performance?

It was just, it was like part.

It was like Richard III.

So this is an American indie band, kind of electronic rock.

Yeah.

The song's really

good.

It's very emotional music.

Very emotional.

And the guy, the lead singer, literally beats his chest.

Yes.

And he is incredibly limber, or at least he was.

Actually, no, I saw them fairly recently.

They were playing at latitude.

Yeah.

And he really moves around, the front man.

He's sort of almost James Brown levels of limber dance movery.

But there's also a kind of theatre blacks element to it.

And the band is very still.

slightly glacial.

Then he seems almost...

It's not that he's not in the band, but certainly they're doing different things.

And so there's a kind of a tension in this is

he's certainly committing to whatever is occurring, and he's decided to use the stage.

And

it's not that it's funny,

but

if it weren't as good as it was, it could possibly be

funny.

And also, there's unexpected things that his voice does as well.

So he will be kind of singing in a fairly fairly normal way and then suddenly go down like this in a really unexpected cookie monster way.

Yes, and a lot of eye contact, a lot of challenging eye contact, I'd call it, and pauses in between the lyrics where it feels that he's held in the emotion of the last thing he said until a twist.

But anyway,

David Lessiman coming in after that is

a really joyful moment

where it's expressed.

But anyway, you very kindly sent this clip of you and David Letterman talking about me.

And I think I was just so

not embarrassed because that sounds like you did something that was embarrassing, but I can't even take it in.

Yeah.

Because of all the, you know.

So you didn't listen to it?

I heard it, but probably just the rush of blood in my ears, the shame

is probably the main thing I heard.

Just the roar.

It was quite a long time.

I was going,

just go, oh.

That was dangerous.

It must have been weird to listen to, yeah, I guess.

Anyway, he, but he just thinks you're great.

And we were just talking about, like, who else does four books?

You published five books last year,

including your children's book.

Yes, well, it took a while, this thing.

So I wrote everything that Harold Hughes wrote in order, basically.

So I started writing his plays because for a long time I wanted to do something about a writer or a director, I wasn't quite sure which, who made a lot of stuff and then you'd have a kind of biography about this person.

And rather than doing one of those things where you just put an extract from a film in where, say, if it's a Western and it just goes, Clint McCluskey walked through the tavern and it would seem obviously made up just for the purposes of the extract.

I thought, oh, I need to know know everything that the person's written somehow.

And I enjoyed writing these fake plays and things and wanted to do that.

And only at the end did the idea of the biography properly occur because then what he did existed somehow, which was a strange thing to do, I suppose.

But were there times when you were writing a play by this guy you'd made up?

Yeah.

When presumably you hit a wall occasionally, like, or did they flow very easily?

Basically, what I'm asking is, were there times when you thought, what am I doing with my life?

This is difficult.

I'm writing a play by a non-existent guy, and I've got several more plays and a couple of films to write, and some poetry.

And what was it like?

Did you not?

Why, how did you avoid having a total breakdown?

Well,

I think writing in some ways is a way of avoiding a total breakdown because it's an ordering of thoughts in a way that,

outside of the time it takes, isn't terribly detrimental on those around you and the world.

And I really enjoyed it.

There's something about,

you know, there are some people who can really write in the third person and they can have that authorial sense of putting everyone in their place, like Ian Forster, and they can use irony about how this person sees themselves and they can position all of the players.

And

I find that incredible, that someone can write,

you know, Room with a View.

That seems incredible.

To me,

effectively writing the first person, which feels like improvising in a character, that doesn't seem tricky to me.

I guess, like, say, Alan Partridge, the infinite riches of him talking is, I don't know.

It doesn't seem like he's going to run out of being able to do that.

So there's something, I think, in

first-person writing that goes quite well with comedy, maybe.

Oh, gosh, I'm sorry for that sentence.

So you didn't have moments when you were getting stuck on one of the plays and just going,

not really.

Writing the plays, it's it.

I'd also, I'd had this idea for about 10 years, so I was kind of ready to go.

Okay.

It sort of built up.

But the biography, that was really hard.

Like the actual story of Harold Hughes and what happened, that went through many different things.

And there was a while when it was going to be like a series of critical studies of Harold Hughes, like a load of essay.

It was going to be even odder initially.

But maybe there are seven plays and there are seven films that he wrote.

And yeah, it wasn't...

It was enjoyable.

I liked writing them.

What about, did you have moments...

Again, this is me projecting times that I've had when I've just thought, what am I doing?

But did you...

No, I definitely thought, what am I doing?

I definitely thought, what is...

This isn't adult behaviour.

This isn't.

Like, if you look at the news, the books were published at around the time that, well, it was the run-up to the American elections.

Oh, I think it is in dialogue with that, though.

That's for sure.

And I think if you read this, I think the election will make sense.

Okay, good.

One of the things I said to David Letterman, which I don't know if it registered when you listened briefly, was that it's a big ask of the audience.

Yes.

You know, most people, well, okay, me,

reading four books a year with my eyes, pat on the back for buckles.

You know what I mean?

Especially with your eyes.

Exactly.

Because normally you just inject them.

Well, I do.

I inject them with television or I just shove books through my ears with audiobooks.

So to actually read a book with my eyes, that's a big deal.

And so you come out with four of them.

You've got the unfinished Harold Hughes, which is about you, Richard Ayawade, or a version thereof,

investigating his life and legacy.

You've got four films.

A collection of his screenplays.

You've got plays, prose pieces, and poetry.

Yeah.

And then you've got the models trilogy.

The especially Wayward Girl, the Model and the Rocker, and the Swinging Models,

the four films, the later more supernatural ones, like The Deadly Gust About a Haunted Wind.

But yes, so those are

London films, the first ones.

And then there's these poems.

But, you know, the biography of him, they're all quite short, I'd say.

And

I suppose because of this joke of it being Harold Hughes is dead and here's the complete reissue it seems ludicrously big

but I don't think you have to read all of them or indeed any of them.

No, they're fun.

I've been reading them on the toilet.

I think you need to be somewhere where you can evacuate.

And that's generally where I do most of my eye reading, to be honest with you.

Okay, I'm going to open to a random page.

Hugo steps in, starts clearing away the enormous amounts of food.

Do you like cats?

Solweig?

Solvay.

Solvay.

See, that's half the problem there.

You got jokes in this thing about, like, one of the jokes is one of the awards that Harold Hughes won was the.

Oh, Euripides Prize for Short Form Drama.

Yeah.

And also the Costa Coffee Award.

And also the Goethe Garte.

The Goethegarta.

Yeah.

Which, like, I only realized like a few weeks ago that it was pronounced Goethe and not Goeth.

Okay.

Yeah.

So you're asking a lot, okay, yes.

Audience member.

Will you read a poem or something like that?

I could read one of his poems.

Oh, this is very short.

This is called Then What?

Then What?

Lost in Ink.

Blood in Mouth.

The rug worn through.

You wonder.

A lot of his

poems seem to be about being drunk on the floor.

I think Harold spent a lot of time unable to get up.

You've never been a drunk on the floor guy though.

No.

No, only on the toilet.

It's a compulsion that leads you to explore that bleeding edge on the top.

Yeah, I'm still a curiosity seeker.

Looking at the idiosyncrasies of things.

A mountain

or

a tree

is the manifestation of forces that we are not capable of dealing with.

I'm very drunk in this.

There was a piece that appeared in Esquire in October of last year, 2024, and it was you had written it under the pseudonym Chloe Clifton Wright.

Yes.

And it was ostensibly an interview with you as the author of the Harold Hughes books.

And the title of the piece was Play for Today, question mark, an attritional interview with Richard Iawade.

And at that point, when I read that headline, I thought it was a real

interview.

And I was thinking, ooh, someone has got wound up by Richard.

Yeah.

And they've written a kind of takedown piece about, like, where's this guy coming from anyway?

Okay, yeah.

And I was like, oh man, that's weird.

And then I realized, oh, he's written it himself.

Yeah.

And I mean, even as Chloe Clifton Wright, I was thinking, that's pretty harsh.

Chloe seems like a bit of a cow.

Is that okay to call someone a cow?

I don't know.

I'm going to say maybe

from the person's point of view, they might not want

to.

It's not okay.

I apologize to the fictional Chloe Clifton Wright.

One of the things you say in Chloe's voice is, whereas Ayahuade seems little more than an inconsequential collection of borrowed ticks and insincere self-effacement, the playwright to whom he refers was all gravitas, depth, and mystery.

And of course, I appreciate what you're doing there, and I appreciate it's in your self-effacing style.

But I thought, even so, that's pretty harsh.

To boil yourself down, even as a joke, to an inconsequential collection of borrowed tics and insincere self-effacement?

Well, in a way, it's quite fun having a go at yourself

fictionally, because really, I suppose when anyone's talking about someone else, they're really talking about their idea of them rather than what they actually are.

And so

the narrowing of a lens on someone is always quite funny.

You know, when someone really emphasises one aspect of it,

I suppose why all the arguments in Spinal tap are some of the funniest things.

It's just emphasizing one aspect of someone or one deficiency of them to an extreme level is as revealing of the person doing that as what they think they're kind of pinning that other person to.

So

it didn't feel uncomfortable saying those things about me.

I'm quite happy.

It almost can be sort of relieving of a kind of tension

in a way.

But do you

because as someone who has struggled to a degree with a certain amount of self-loathing or insecurity over the years,

sometimes I hear the way you talk about yourself or you put yourself down or you sort of apologize for yourself.

And I do think like what is motivating?

Is it just a joke?

Is it just a

to what extent are you putting yourself down before someone else does?

Yeah, the preemptive strike.

I don't know.

I think with writing, it does come from a bit of you that you're not totally aware of, I find.

So it's just it occurs, and then you have to decide whether to keep it or not.

And then I go, no, I'm quite happy to keep that.

So there's an extent to which I think

what I'm like isn't quite my business,

and I don't totally know.

How to put it,

probably

if you know yourself you know

how bad you are and that's I don't think that is

wrong.

I think there is something really troubling about

unreflective positivity I guess as it's termed toxic positivity.

these days but I think most people

have a good sense of

gosh

there are some things about me that really need some attention

one of the most depressing things I feel is if something feels not real or pulled emotionally in some ways so I wanted to write something that was like a hit piece a kind of a pastiche of a hit piece and

yeah the asquire thing where just someone's just exhausted with someone and they just think they're pretentious and and and that just seemed a funny idea to write have you ever had one of those written about you for real

and a hit piece i don't know well not a hit piece but a non-uncomfortable encounter with someone who didn't get you always wound up by i i think i've

never had a non-uncomfortable encounter

I think every encounter has been uncomfortable.

I mean, I did an interview on Channel 4 news with

Krishna.

Yeah.

Oh, we spoke about this when we were lisping.

But that was uncomfortable.

I didn't feel that was uncomfortable.

But the thing before, the reason they asked me to do it, I think, was I'd done an interview.

I can't remember exactly who with or what it was in, but I think the

gist of it was,

oh, come on.

Just stop trying to wriggle out of this.

Just, you know, what's going on, I think a little bit.

And so they said, Do you want to do an interview about interviews?

I went, okay, but I think maybe I'm incapable of not going, is this what an interview is meant to be?

Like now I go, I'm talking a lot.

This isn't our normal conversations.

We would be both talking.

There wouldn't be any assumption that somehow

that what I'm saying is worthy of record, that I should be saying more, that now it's your turn to say a thing.

You've kind of thought yourself into a hole, right?

You've overthought the encounter.

I've maybe overthought, I've maybe,

or

I've thought about it just enough.

The exact right amount.

You've thought about it the way everyone else should be thinking about it.

Why isn't everyone else thinking

the same?

And, well, there is something slightly ridiculous about being interviewed.

Of course.

Because,

what is it?

Have you had therapy?

Have you been in therapy?

No, I haven't.

No, I haven't had therapy.

I think it seems like a pretty good idea.

Yeah, well, I'm just wondering to what extent, you know, as I said before, it's like I am coming at this as someone who, you know, struggles a little bit with self-doubt.

and feels a certain amount of pain after certain encounters and sometimes I look at what you say and some of the things you say in interview situations, and I feel like, ooh, if that was true of me, I would be in real pain.

I wonder if he's in real pain.

So, things I've said in interviews seem like the things that someone in real pain would say.

Yeah, like you, like, wow, this guy is at war with himself.

Well,

yeah, I mean, maybe, I think in some ways,

yeah,

but I mean, maybe not enough.

I mean, maybe I'm just too glib about things.

I mean, I don't really understand

myself, as in I don't know at all.

And I think in some ways

people who write often don't seem to fully understand themselves, otherwise they would do other things.

Say at school, if you're personable,

athletic, well-liked and charismatic,

you probably want to see how that works out for you rather than going, I'm going to become an expert on French new wave.

So

I think in some ways the thing that pushes you into a specific area of interest or a specific medium is the same thing that means you find it quite hard to talk about

because just I mean, you know this from musicians, they're not being difficult, they just don't know how to talk about music.

If they could talk about it, they wouldn't do it.

I mean, which seems very frustrating because you want to say,

How did you do it?

And it's one of the things I'm really interested in because I love reading interviews and I love finding out about people.

But very often, they can't express it.

And that in itself can be quite enjoyable to realize or to apprehend.

And that it's not being obstreperous or,

yes, the David Lynch thing of the film is the talking.

If they could express it in another way, they wouldn't have done that thing.

Do you know the conversation between Orson Welles and Henry Jaglam about Woody Allen?

Yes, yes.

Yes.

These were a series of conversations recorded by a director called Henry Jaglum with Orson Welles, who was then his friend.

Yeah.

And they would hang out in Los Angeles and Orson Welles was a couple of decades older than Henry Jaglum.

Yeah.

But they had a close friendship and they would just chat in a very informal way about everything.

Yes, although there does seem to be something slightly transactional about it because Orson Welles is trying to get funding.

Henry Jaglam's more at the start of his career.

He's going, I think I might be able to get some money through.

I also have the sense of Orson Welles

not showing off exactly, but slightly going,

hey, I'm no old dinosaur.

I can still mix it.

I can still be pretty

pointed.

It's like a series of podcasts before podcasts were a thing.

There are audio snippets flying around on the internet.

And then there was a transcription of a lot of these tapes that emerged in book form, which I would recommend.

But the exchange about Woody Allen, you say Jaglom, do you?

Is it?

Maybe it's Jaglum.

Yes, I don't know.

Let's call the whole thing off.

Quaglom.

Anyway, the subject of Woody Allen comes up.

Orson Welles says, I hate Woody Allen.

Physically, I dislike that kind of man.

Yaglom says, I never understood why.

Have you met him?

Oh yes, says Orson Welles.

I can hardly bear to talk to him.

He has the chaplain disease.

That particular combination of arrogance and timidity sets my teeth on edge.

He's not arrogant, he's shy, says Henry Jaglom.

He's arrogant, says Orson Welles.

Like all people with timid personalities, his arrogance is unlimited.

Anyone who speaks quietly and shrivels up in company is unbelievably arrogant.

He acts shy, but he's not.

He's scared.

He hates himself and he loves himself.

A very tense situation.

I take your note.

I read that and thought about the way that I can be sometimes.

Yes.

Because

I always just think about myself in any situation.

How does that reflect on me?

I think that's a good thing, though, isn't it?

I mean, as in, if you hear about something and just go, yeah, that sums up everyone else, that probably is not a good sign.

As in, I think

generally reading about these things is to, in some ways, go, oh, yeah, am I guilty of this kind of a sin, as it were?

Yeah, I recognize that

there can be something

arrogant in just not,

I don't know, for want of a better way of putting it, just putting your stuff on other people.

Just

you might be uncomfortable, but now you're stressing the other person out.

and you might feel shy, but

the sense of your anxieties leaking out everywhere and slightly rancidly poisoning everything.

So, I do think there's

some responsibility, just even if it's just on a vaguely civic level, just to not

absolutely hand-ring overly.

It's not something I've managed to stop doing.

I have mixed feelings about, you know,

as

liking a lot of their stuff and both of them have done things

and Woody Allen have done things that are less good.

And also I think Orson Welles was in this very specific situation where here's someone who's made what is regarded as the best film of all time by many people unable to get work or to make a film.

And so I think there must have been a certain huge frustration at someone someone who was just making a film a year and had this kind of carte blanche, as Woody Allen would have had at that time.

And also I think what was it was it Casino Royale that they were both in?

And I think Woody Allen had he written it or had he rewritten it and I think it must have felt hugely frustrating for Autumn Wells.

I mean his opinion of him notwithstanding.

The Chaplin disease, I wonder what that is, and whether that's,

I don't know, combination of arrogance and timidity.

Is that something that he feels comes across in the films, or personally, that's the thing that I, when I read that, I wasn't sure.

Right.

Because

I think you'd be hard-pressed to say that's not quite a good creation, the Chaplin persona.

It's not bad.

Maybe the timidity is

the tramp character in contrast with an arrogance off-screen.

I don't know.

Yeah.

But in a way, isn't that a clown?

I mean, a clown is

desperate for the audience's love and is those absurd things.

I mean, in a way, I think a lot of comedians

know how to exaggerate in themselves the things

that are ridiculous and uncomfortable and

most people

rightly try to repress

because they're unpleasant.

Whereas, you know, the Marx brothers know what to emphasise and just go, Yeah, you probably shouldn't speak this tactlessly, you probably shouldn't steal all of these things, you probably shouldn't run around.

And Orson Welles, in a way, he's not like that interested in humour.

I mean, the trial's really funny,

but I think he's

kind of a hero actor, isn't he, Orson Welles?

And I also think maybe Orson Welles'

fatal flaw is one of self-pity.

Whereas

the Chaplin and Woody Allen characters, they're really quite tough.

You can't destroy them.

I think that's one of the strange things about clowns.

Because they've admitted to and exaggerated every flaw that you can perceive in them.

They become indestructible.

Whereas Orson Welles...

could be laughed at and ignored and in a way that's really quite painful when you see later when you see him getting his.

I think there's a clip of him accepting almost like a lifetime achievement award at some American society.

And he does it brilliantly, where he says something like,

far be it for me to beg for funds.

And he leaves this great pause, and everyone laughs, but I am still trying to make films.

But you know, no one there.

I mean, everyone's celebrating him, but no one's going to give him any money.

And that's, it's really kind of sad to feel the desperation of him in those adverts where he's drunk.

That there's something Shakespearean, tragic about Orson Welles

that you'd struggle to say there is as much about Chaplin and Woody Allen.

They're more sneaky,

wily,

very different characters, dramatic characters.

Well, you put him back in his box.

Go to the toilet, take your time.

Holiday time.

The other day we met up to go and see Mick Jones's exhibition, the Rock and Roll Public Library.

And it's

an archive of 20th century pop culture that he himself has amassed after his years of being a pivotal figure in the world, having been a member of The Clash and then Big Audio Dynamite and all the other projects he's done over the years.

Yes.

There's a clip of him playing Train in Vain.

That is one of the most moving things I've seen.

There's one moment, I don't know why this really, I don't know, gets me, why

cry

because everyone loves him so much and everyone loves what his music's done for them.

And there's one bit where someone just shouts out to them, like, Go on, Mick!

And it's really,

you kind of choke up watching it, or maybe it's just me, and I've got some, I'm having a breakdown, but it's so moving, and he's so winning.

His kind of smile, he's got the best smile.

His voice, it's just him and a telecaster, sounds great.

Everything about him is

just a pleasure.

Yeah.

I'll put a link to that in the description.

If you're ever not feeling good, you've watched that and everything's okay again.

You and I were invited to

one of the launch nights of this exhibition of Mick Jones's pop cultural archive.

I imagined that we were going to get there and it was going to be, you know, just a few people wandering around a gallery space and we'd have a little chat with Mick and

he would show us his laminates.

And you know, jobs are good.

But actually, we arrived, and there was a giant queue of old punks.

It was a big queue.

It was a punk snake

snaking out into Denmark Street of about a two-mile,

solid two-mile punk formation.

Guy,

gob everywhere, spitting,

studs,

littering the place,

pogoing.

It was the likes of which you've never seen.

Spiky hair, people singing my way,

union jacks, disrespecting authority, then kind of commercializing.

Safety pins.

Yeah.

It was unsafe.

It was an unsafe formation.

So we went back to our bourgeois homes, didn't we?

We didn't even go in because it was a really cold night.

I don't think it was even cold.

I think it was just the prospect of being kept waiting for even one second.

so enraged,

such old media hands

that we couldn't go.

Yeah, I think probably we both had the same unrealistic dream of floating into a white gallery space.

Yeah.

Being given champagne, and then within half an hour, you're best friends with Mick Jones.

And Leather Jack and just go, Mick, have you ever thought about, do you ever want to just jam?

Exactly.

On the side?

And I go, yeah.

So he says to you, let's jam.

And he says to me, me, can I please be on your podcast?

Yeah.

And then we leave the gallery and we get given like a couple of pics that they used in the clash.

I was actually already going higher than that.

I thought he was going to, I don't really use some of these guitars.

I don't know whether

I'm just going to throw them out.

Have you heard that Francis Bacon story?

This is quite a good Francis Bacon story, whereby he was in the colony club and he said, I've just been to Harrods and they're useless.

I just got a load of suits from them and they're disgusting.

Threw them all out.

And then almost, I think there's a pause.

Everyone leaves and they all go to Francis Bacon's house.

And the next day, they're all in Harrod's suits.

And so I kind of thought it'd be a bit like that.

I don't need this stuff.

I always thought I wanted the guitars where somebody could really play because I heard you, Faber Dinosaur Jr.

And despite your protestations, you might be a generational guitarist.

And I want to get the band back together again.

Would you?

Well, look, I'm not prepared to relinquish that dream.

And I would like to extend a warm invitation to Mick Jones to come onto the podcast

and waffle about the old days and the new days and whatever else he wants to waffle about.

And you can come along too.

And you guys will jam.

That would be.

And I'll sit there and I'll produce the session.

Yeah.

I'll do some BVs.

Yeah.

And then we can all go home.

I think the parallels between Joe Strummer and I can no longer be ignored.

And I think we should get it back together.

What would be the clash song you would most like to play?

Train in Vein.

Train in Vein.

Yeah.

Spanish Bombs I like a lot.

Yeah.

White Riot, White Man in Hammerson.

Oh, that's a good one.

I mean,

lots of good songs.

There's lots of not rubbish songs.

Yeah.

If people were taking turns to play songs around the campfire, what would you play?

And you had to sing as well.

Oh, if I had to sing.

Probably that.

Yeah.

Wait, this is a Squarespace advert.

Do you want to build a website?

Yes, I will tell you how.

Visit squarespace.com/slash Buxton.

Now, start a free trial today, and in minutes, you will say, My website dreams are finally coming true.

Just tell Squarespace what you want to do.

They'll suggest some templates that might be right for you.

Drag in pictures and text, add some videos.

And next thing you know, your website will be done.

Visit squarespace.com/slash Buxton today.

Start your free trial and have yourself a play.

And when you have decided that you're ready to pay, type in the offer code Buckston.

Why?

Because you'll save 10% if it's your first purchase of a website or domain.

Oh, 10%!

That's my favorite percent.

Thank you, Squarespace.

Continue.

Hey, welcome back, podcasts.

That was Richard Ayewadi

talking to me there, and I'm very grateful to him indeed for coming along and making the time to have a chat.

I'm hoping to put another episode out featuring Richard before too long, and that would be made up of a bit more of the live show that we recorded last year at the Palladium.

There were a few bits of chat there about music, about our shared enthusiasm for Frank Black and and the Pixies, and he was our guest, our musical guest at the show.

And I'm hoping I might be able to include one of the songs that he played live.

But the problem with anything that's got a musical performance in it is that it has to be cleared for the podcast, and that's proving to be more complicated than I would have hoped.

Anyway, I hope that will emerge at some point.

We also talked a bit more about Wes Anderson in that live podcast chat, so it could be a nice part two to today's episode.

I've realized there's quite a few music-related chats coming up in the podcast.

I've been trying to listen to more music recently, especially with the world the way it is, there's only so much Trump you can take.

So, in addition to all the politics chat, I've been trying to stuff a bit more music in my ears.

Yesterday, Spotify served me up C-Mat's single, which she played on the podcast last week, Running Planning.

And it sounded great.

The album version was terrific.

And then Spotify served me up some Squid.

Mmm, delicious.

The album I've been listening to quite a bit recently is Sinister Grift by Panda Bear.

I was never a huge Panda Bear fan, Animal Collective and all that.

They were a bit too

busy.

And the Panda Bear stuff, I never got on with that well.

But this album, I love it.

It reminds me a bit of Deer Hunter who I also like anyway

music waffle who knows maybe we'll get Mick Jones on the podcast and then it's gonna be golden music waffle time

a few links in the description of the podcast today by the way instead of putting loads and loads of related links in the description of the podcast

I'm putting a single link which will take you to my website, the page for the podcast on my website, and you'll find all the links there, plus usually a picture of me and my guest.

So this week you'll find, as well as the link to pre-order I Love You Buy,

on the web page for this episode, you'll find links for the unfinished Harold Hughes audiobook that's read by Richard himself, as well as Chris Morris, David Mitchell, Lydia Fox, Noel Fielding, Sally Hawkins and Stephen Merchant.

I don't have any guests on my audiobook.

Well, I've got cornballs.

I haven't recorded with him yet, but he's going to come in and record a couple of bits, including a bonus chat for the end of the audiobook, which will be an opportunity for him to respond to some of the things I've written about in there, about working together and our relationship and occasional angsty moments.

What else have I got link-wise for you?

Article about the writing of Straight Story.

There's the Future Islands performance on David Letterman that Richard was talking about, which is the gift that keeps giving.

It's great.

There's that performance of Train in Vain by Mick Jones, the one that makes Richard weepy.

And there's a trailer for the Phoenician scheme.

Click the related links button in the description of today's podcast for all that.

All right, I think that's it for this week.

Got to get to my audiobook session now.

Thank you very much indeed to Seamus Murphy Mitchell for production support and conversation editing.

Thanks to Helen Green, she does the artwork for the podcast.

Thanks to everyone at ACAST.

Next time, I will be back in the Norfolk countryside, hopefully on another day like this.

It's been so nice this last week.

I like it as well because it's cold.

I would prefer overall to be a little colder than a little too hot.

That's my personal preference.

But just the blue skies and the bright sun,

it makes everything a lot easier, doesn't it?

Anyway, I hope you're doing okay out there.

Thank you so much for coming back, listening right to the end.

I hope you enjoyed it.

How do you feel about a bench hug?

Is that a good phrase?

Come here.

Nice to see you.

Have a great day.

Don't jog too hard.

And until next time, we share the same aural space.

I'm not going to go too loud on the bay because I'm in a public park.

Take good care.

It's nutty out there.

And for what it's worth, do bear in mind that I love you.

Bye.

it buttons up.

Like and subscribe.

Like and subscribe.

Like and subscribe.

Dislike and subscribe.

Give me like a smile and a thumbs up.

I say a pant when my butts up.

Give me like a smile and a thumbs up.

I say a pat when it buttons on.

Like and subscribe.

Dislike and subscribe.

Dislike and subscribe.

Dislike and subscribe.

Give me a little smile and a thumbs up.