Bonus Bugle – Late love and Live

The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Hello, buglers, and welcome to Bugle 4059 sub-episode A.

We are having a week off this week in an effort to stop all global news from happening.

And because I'm on tour, and it's half-term, and the heat death of the universe is only 5 billion years away, so what's the point?

Instead, we have a sub-episode for you containing some classic Bugle Valentine's Day facts from the Bugle Fact Archives, the primary repository of historical veracity in the known world, plus some choice snippets from my recent satirist for Har Shows in Dublin on the 11th of February, and way back in the icy bleakness of January, Aldershot.

Well, Jose, we'll start with you because since you're one of the two people to actually send in

in advance, a number of topics you sent.

For the second time in a row, I've been out of the UK for a few days before your show at the Westie.

All right, Columbus, don't flash it about, mate.

All travelled.

I would like you to satirise this: hotel breakfasts.

I mean, that was the idea when I started this show, was so people could have the big political issues of the world that are really affected and deeply satirised.

So, hotel, so have you, how long have you been away?

Three nights.

Three nights.

Was this work or holiday or?

Oh, holiday, right.

And

they upset you, the hotel breakfasts?

Bonkers in their variety?

Oh, right, and you just a single standardised global breakfast.

Is there not enough uncertainty in this world?

Why must we have the division over whether we should have bacon and eggs or pancakes or whatever the Belgians eat?

Swiss with a fing Moosely?

What the f is Moosley?

There's gravel with dust.

The concept of delayed guilt, sorry?

Yes, well this is it.

This is the buffet breakfast is a living metaphor for the pitfalls of unbridled capitalism.

So every time you go to a buffet breakfast you are living out the dangers of a lack of regulation in the global financial market.

So remember that.

Because

I've tried this myself.

I have no buffet discipline.

And

you know, the number of times I've been sitting there, you know, looking at my fifth sausage and the three uneaten slices of black pudding

on my plate.

And I think, no, we really need to do something more to control the unregulated banking sector.

Because I mean, I think

humans have no self-discipline at all.

And we've seen this.

I mean, I think fundamentally, the way we've left the financial markets as unregulated as a breakfast buffet

to me, that is like, it was as short-sighted as a man getting a new Labrador and training that Labrador to eat nothing but sausages and scotch eggs, and then taking that Labrador with him on a nudist holiday

was

at some point quite obviously going to come back to bite us.

Family show.

So,

but I mean, also, you worry about the health implications of this sort of unbridled breakfast consumerism.

I mean, it is

bacon and pickled fish.

That is, that is, sorry, it was Iceland

in Iceland.

Yeah, I mean because the Scandinavians, they do go for they go for pickled fish,

which I don't think is enough.

By way of apology for what the Vikings did on these shores, it's not enough, it's too little,

too late.

Um other non-travel thoughts, Jose, you asked for, oh, uh, social media bosses not using social media.

Um well, I guess it's the old saying, don't shit in your own lunch box.

And uh, well, I mean, I it's it's not just social I mean, do you think Ronald MacDonald actually eats the shit in his own restaurants?

No, he has his own private chef.

Ronald MacDonald.

Custard pies, mostly.

Occasionally quese with cheese and egg on top.

Maybe a deep pan pizza with mozzarella and celeriac foam.

Basically anything that can be smashed in a face for comedic effects.

Leopards never change their spots and clowns never change their trousers.

That is a horrific fact of life in the circus.

But also, people don't always live up to what they claim to represent.

Popes, for example.

Not all popes have fully lived out the teachings of Jesus Christ.

And in particular, going way back in history,

I mean,

I'm not going to beat a drum against

the Catholics here.

I am lapsed Jewish,

as I said, as are indeed all Catholics in a way.

I think that's why I'm so tolerant as a guy, because I view all Christians and Muslims as lapsed Jews like me.

I think there might be something in that.

Someone write that down.

But the

Pope, Popes, some amazing, I mean,

if you're compiling your worst ever Popes list, some of them have done some incredible things.

Pope John XII, really leading the way, but

Alexander VI, he had competitive fornicating competitions, which were on Sky Sports Vatican at the time.

Boniface VIII once slaughtered an entire town of 6,000 people, which is not the most popey behavior you've ever seen, is it?

Benedict IX, he sold off the papacy.

Philip Hammond's kind of pope, I guess.

Also renowned as the 11th century's gayest pope, which was a surprisingly hotly contested title.

Also, more of a fan of the massive orgy than some of the more sexually demure popes we've had in recent times.

And Pope Rabbi Yitchel Schnak Skobitskobits,

very bad Pope.

He was appointed in 1979 due to a clerical error.

And stepped down immediately after walking into the Vatican on his first day and appearing on the balcony of St.

Peter's with an inflatable Moses,

shouting, so you losers have finally come to your senses after 2,000 years.

But John XII, I mean, worst ever Pope.

You talk about

social media leaders being hypocrites.

John XII ordained a deacon in a stable.

He, I guess, is not that far away from giving birth in a manger, is it?

I mean, Donald Trump, before Christmas, he said,

you know,

the Nativity story shows

what's important in life, you know, the value of family and love.

And he said, no, Donald, the lesson from the Nativity story is what happens if you cripplingly underfund public health care.

People give birth in a fucking farm.

There's a good joke in there somewhere, but it didn't come out tonight.

John XII, he,

well,

he slept with his sisters, he stole money and possessions from the church, he drank toasts to the devil, he castrated a cardinal, he used to invoke pagan gods whilst playing dice.

He was quite keen as a hobby on maiming and mutilating his opponents, or if you will, his pope ponents.

And he ended up being beaten to death with a hammer by a jealous husband whose wife, Pope John, was in the process of poper-doping in a most unpopesome manner.

And one assumes that as he was hammered to death by this, the last thought that went through his head was, yeah, I did kind of have this coming.

I did kind of have this coming.

Charles Hume was going through Colonel Gaddafi's mind as well at the time.

On average, on aggregate, I reckon I'm still ahead.

I'm just going to relax and try and make the best of it.

He was made Pope at 16, interestingly, John XII.

I guess if you're good enough, you're old enough.

But it is a risk having a 16-year-old pope.

But it didn't really work out.

And

yeah, I mean, some of the, you got some real stinging criticism from some of the contemporary monk commentators.

In fact, this was one manuscript from a monk at the time, one of the most prominent monk pundits from the Pope of the Day programme,

Alan Shiririus,

said at the end of Pope John XII's reign, he'll be disappointed with that.

When you're Pope, you've simply got to do better.

I'll just run through a couple of the ones that were emailed in shortly before the start of the show.

Susie Vermilio.

Hello, Susie.

Thanks for this pronounce your name, right?

Yeah,

I'm married into it, but I know.

Oh, you're married into it, so it's not your business, Greg.

I mean, I think, I mean,

I don't really have fixed views on whether in the 21st century women should take their husbands' names or vice versa.

But I think if you are going to do it, at least learn how to pronounce four syllables.

It's a kind of dangerous middle ground you're in there.

Please satirise the fact that

Trump's statement that he hopes, quotes, all sharks die,

has led to a flood of donations in his name to conservation charities.

This is just wonderful with a smiling emoji.

Is that an emoji?

Or an emojis?

Is it emojis singular?

I don't know.

So I'm a bit out of the loop.

But I mean, I think this is, again, everything with Trump is twisted against him.

He said he hopes all sharks die.

I mean, that's just realism, isn't it?

That is just, I mean, that is a Christian man hoping that we do not discover an immortal shark who turns out to be the real Messiah.

So he hopes, because he wants to cling to the idea of a human messiah.

I mean, no one wants a shark saviour.

I mean, what kind of standards of behavior would that set?

You know, just an animal that consumes everything in its path with no regard for the welfare.

Actually, that's Trump's ideal Messiah.

Right, Neil, this is you.

Hello, Neil.

The second of the two emails sent in before 7:30 today.

Glad you're coming back to the Westy, the best art centre in the world.

In the world?

I've checked, it's It's not.

Sorry.

How is it judged anyway?

Because I've just checked the official rankings.

It's not top.

Top is the Montevideo Teatricalia des Artes et Comunitado Centrada in Uruguay.

Followed by the entire city of Dubai, which is a living arts installation of the folly of humanity.

And the West End Centre is third.

It's not bad, not bad.

It's done very well.

But

in the world, I mean,

you get the obviously

you get the absolute cream of comedy here.

Clearly, that goes

not like the O2, that overpriced piece of shit.

I went to see something at the O2.

Who's been to the O2 in London?

Yeah, to see comedy?

See, I went to see something there a couple of years ago.

It was absolute shit, not funny at all.

It was a show called Roger Federer versus Raphael Nadal.

And I'd heard these two guys were really great, but they just hit these little yellow balls at each other.

I don't know if it was like meta-comedy, it was like funny because it's not funny.

I blame the office for that.

And it was very repetitious as well.

Same thing over and out.

Stuart Lee's fault, frankly.

A bit of slapstick when the ball went into the net every now and again, but overall bullshit.

There's a support act sitting in the high chair.

He was the best guy.

At least he said something.

Of course, that's nonsense.

Federer and Nadal haven't played at the World Tour finals in London since 2011.

But anyway, you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know that.

That was Aldershot.

Well, I hope, buglers, that you had a truly sensational Valentine's Day last week and fell in love with as many people as humanly possible.

Now it's time for some Valentine's Day facts, as brought to you in the past by us.

So, welcome to February.

This is the first February broadcast of the 2009 calendar year.

February of course John, the newest month of the 12 current first choice months being used at the moment.

Roman king Numa Pompilius invented February and its close buddy January when he realised that the Romans were wasting the first 59 days of the year sitting around doing sweet Jemima crankshaft waiting for March to begin.

Now of course being the last month that we discovered John, February had to make do with the very last few remaining scrap days left over after the other months had had their fill plus 12 days given to it by September, which until then had clocked in on a big fat distended 42 days.

For more than a thousand years, February was roundly teased by all the other months until St.

Valentine, the patron saint of hackneyed chat-up lines and clumsy passes, posted himself anonymously to a nun he fancied on the 10th of February one year.

Arriving by second class post four days later, a hungry, cold and urine-soaked Valentine tumbled out of his cardboard and bubble wrap package onto the nun's floor and recited these lines.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a rhino in bed and I'll bet you are too.

Love from guess who?

Before the nun nun smashed him over the head with a Bronze Virgin Mary trophy she'd won the previous day as Miss Chaste 453 AD.

Valentine slumped to the floor, mumbled, I wouldn't mind breaking your habits.

She clunked him again, he burbled, sister, Sizzler more like.

She booted him in the head with her size 9 Maudlin 3000 nun boots and he whispered, I love you so much I'm falling to bits.

Now whip off your wimple and show me at which point she body slammed him while screaming, hail Mary, full in your face.

And Valentine died instantly but happily.

Of course the big sake was then commemorated by Valentine's Day, which along with February's relaunch as the end of winter month, thrust it into the mainstream as a month where it has remained ever since.

It's been month of the year on 14 occasions, most recently in 1935.

There, a bit of background on February for you there.

Well, that was from the mind of Andy Zultiman, father of two.

I'm 34.

I'm 34, John, and to illustrate quite how suited I am to the responsibilities, the onerous responsibilities of fatherhoods, a couple of weeks ago I bought a new shirt for our Comedians Tuesday football games, John.

It's bright pink and it's awarded to the person who does the worst miss of the day.

I also ordered some big letters to go on the back spelling out the word loser.

I'm the 34 year old father of two and Oxford graduate.

Where's it all gone wrong?

Anyway, we're beginning February the 2nd.

February the 1st John, 60 years since the end of wartime clothes rationing in Britain.

And I think it's fair to say, John, that neither you nor I have fully adjusted

to pre-rationing levels yet.

It's Valentine's Day on Sunday.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah,

Valentine's Day on Sunday, the 14th of February.

And it's been marked by a very controversial story here, John, that has yet again torn Britain apart at its very scenes.

In which a primary school in Somerset has banned pupils from sending Valentine's cards to each other to save them the quotes emotional trauma of being rejected.

Oh, dear.

I think it's a very bad move, Andy, because it is important that children at the earliest possible age have their hearts trampled to the ground and their souls crushed.

Yeah.

Character building, Andy, sets them up for the real world they're about to enter.

They need to learn how to deal with a rejection, because rejection, John, to me, is the beef mince in the bolognese of life.

Without it, it lacks depth and texture.

And I think as a nation, we are bad at dealing with rejection.

Ever since the Empire said, that's it, it's over, Britain.

I've had enough.

And Britain replied, I could change, just give me another chance.

I promise I won't exploit you again.

You fing ungrateful bitch.

I think the best Valentine's Day card I ever had, Andy, I think I was around nine years old.

And there was a girl who gave me a card which wasn't so much affectionate as it just it had a 10-point breakdown.

Why do you not like me?

And there was then 10-point argument, which is pretty advanced for a nine-year-old, to which my only response would be, I just don't see the point of you yet.

I didn't even know yet at that point.

I just thought, I just don't get the point.

Where is she now?

I don't know.

I actually can't even remember her name, Andy.

Isn't that sad?

Well, if you're listening,

I did.

Yeah, I'll tell you who I would like to know, Andy.

The first girl I ever loved was I was five years old.

Yeah.

Sarah Constable.

And I loved her because she had blue glasses, I remember, and very shiny black black sandal shoes.

Okay, I thought both of those things were very cool.

You shallow bastard.

I was ahead of my time in terms of how vapid I was.

Now,

personally, Andy, I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day, but even I wouldn't take it as far as Saudi Arabia, who on Thursday launched a nationwide crackdown on stores selling items that are either red or heart-shaped or in any other way allude to Valentine's Day, which is banned there.

They've officially banned it.

Red-coloured or heart-shaped items are legal, apparently, at other times of years, but as February 14th nears, they become completely contraband in Saudi Arabia.

Boy,

they never cease to surprise with just how intolerant they are.

Listen,

I don't particularly like the day either, but easy.

I think as it is, this thing about rejection, a learning to accept rejection is very important, John.

And because, you know, I've learned to deal with rejection.

I got rejected a number of times.

I got rejected when I applied for a job to be a a sub-editor for Potato Processing International magazine.

Uh-huh.

Back in 1997.

I wasn't even good enough for that.

But it made me think

how differently my life could have turned out if I'd got that job.

You'd have been graded, Andy.

You'd have been the best potato processing writer of all time.

I firmly believe that.

I just think by now, you know, I might have been able to move sideways and work on its sister publication, Potato Storage International, that was launched in 2004.

Please tell me that isn't true.

It's true.

These guys are going places, John.

Maybe then I'd have been looking at one of the publishing house's other marquee titles, such as Asia-Pacific Baker or European Baker.

Who knows?

But by now, you've cried wolves too many times, Andy.

I don't believe these exist.

It's all true.

By now, I could be the Randolph Hurst of Business to Business Trade magazine specialising in the starchy foods industry.

Instead, I had to settle for Shobiz.

Amongst my other rejections, John, an offer to do a free encore at the comedy store in Manchester, December 2002.

That was was rejected pretty volumably.

Yeah.

And unanimously.

Yeah.

A polite request to join the England cricket team.

Rejected.

Fully costed plan to get my school to launch a nuclear weapons programme.

Rejected.

Apparently, the last chemistry teacher tried to end up blowing half a Kent.

And a demand for state immunity from prosecution in return for information about who killed the Queen Mother.

Rejected.

So I'm just.

All I'm saying, kids, is learn to live with it.

And now a St.

Valentine's Day fact box.

Anonymity is a key plank of what Valentine's Day is all about.

St.

Valentine, after whom the day is named, took this anonymity so far that nobody knows who the f he was, or where the f he was from, or even exactly when the f he lived.

All that's known about him is that he's almost certainly dead by now, probably the victim of a martyrdom-related crime, and that when he was alive, he loved writing rhyming couplets inside folded-over bits of card and eating pink food.

Also, the traditional anonymity of Valentine's Day is where the perpetrators of the Valentine's Day massacre were able to keep their identities a secret.

If the massacre had happened on any other day of the year, legally they'd have had to fess up.

Also, there were many famous romances sparked into life on Valentine's Day.

Sultry screen sex siren sorceress Marilyn Munro wooed ace playwright Arthur Miller with a Valentine's Day card containing a four-act play about the Salem witchcraft trials.

Prefaced with the poem, If it was 1692, I'd put my witchy spell on you.

Miller later claimed the work of his own and called it the Crucible.

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert got together when he he organised a 21 cannon salute to her in Morse code, spelling out the words, Hey Queenie, you've set my Teutonic heart a buzzing.

Don't be put off just because I'm your first cousin.

And Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, they hooked up on Valentine's Day 2002 when they were both stood up by blind dates at Jean-Glauk's Comedy Club in Birmingham.

Coincidentally, they'd both split up from their previous partners exactly one year before.

Pitt left his then-girlfriend, the former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, after she received a card that he thought might have been from Yasser Arafat, whilst Jolie dumped her bow, the 1979 world snooker champion Terry Griffiths,

after he insisted on practicing his break-off shots rather than going out for a romantic dinner.

And famously and disastrously, mythological Greek king Oedipus and his mummy got together on Valentine's Day after she sent him a jokey Valentine's Day card as a nice maternal gesture in case he didn't get any from the girls in his school.

He took it just a little bit too seriously.

And some bugle Valentine's Day tips, including how best to approach the subject,

whilst guaranteeing the level of anonymity that guarantees your intended love will remain completely unaware.

Well, the best way is to infiltrate your local radio station as a newsreader and deliver a bulletin, in which the first letter of each word, when written out, spells out John Keats' hit platinum-selling love poem, Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art.

Alternatively, get your best friend, on whom you know your Valentine has a long-standing crush, to write the card for you, obviously in their own handwriting, and sign it with their own name.

That way, your would-be love will have no idea that it is actually from you.

And also, never deliver a Valentine's message at gunpoint.

Back to Satirist for High Now, and we're going to pop across the Irish Sea to the wonderful city of Dublin.

So,

Tibbs Ashton, are you here?

Hello, you also asked about

Nigel Farage and

well, his proposal that Ireland should rejoin the Commonwealth.

Who's in favour of that?

The old buddies club.

I think sport is the closest we ever get to apologising for some of the what might be described as procedural glitches of our imperial age.

And crick, sorry?

Well, cricket is, yes.

In fact,

well, the famously,

that's the closest we've ever got, because we've never fully apologised

here, have we?

I mean, I think the Queen used the word regrettable

about

some of the more excessively enthusiastic British actions.

If I may, however, I have got my subscription to the British Euphemism Society.

Regrettable.

Regrettable, which means that they...

We haven't actually regretted them yet, but we know that there is the potential to regret them.

That is a step forward.

Baby steps.

Baby steps.

But the closest we ever get is letting other countries beat us at sports.

Sports that we invented.

Cricket in particular.

Bangalore 2011.

The Irish, the Ireland cricket team

beat the England cricket team.

Yeah, yeah.

Led by Kevin O'Brien, who had dyed his hair pink for the occasional.

So we were beaten in a cricket match, A by Ireland and B by a a guy with pink hair.

That truly felt like the end of English civilization to me.

It was the absolute lowest point.

But clearly, we could have won that game.

We had you guys on the rack.

But no, we thought of the broader picture, the conciliation between our nations, and we let you win.

So that's it.

And sport is about joy.

That's what sport is all about, joy.

It's about bringing happiness to people.

And we brought happiness to Irish people that day.

We brought happiness to billions of Indians, Australians,

we're very good at it, really.

Anyway, on a sports note,

the growing suggestion that Dublin should be split into two counties for Gaelic football

due to their dominance.

Is this, I mean, who,

are you fans of

Gaelic football?

And hurling?

Yeah,

I'll get onto this here because the origin of the sports, I'm fascinated by the origin of sports, and we'll get into your local, your

Irish sports as well.

Trampolining, that began, the CIA invented, you might know this as an American.

The CIA invented trampolining in the 1960s as a torture technique.

But it was a very liberated time in the 60s.

Now, trying something different.

They were trying for inverse torture, where you make people so relaxed and happy that they just splurt all their secrets out.

But it didn't work.

So they then switched to waterboarding, which conversely sounds fun

but is not.

And it's an amazing number of things that sound fun but aren't, for example, eee

polo!

And

Chairman Mao's little red book, which

sounds like a delightful bedtime story for a child, isn't it?

Any parents out there, do not use it as a bedtime story for a child.

Political power grows out of the barrel of a gum.

Sleep well, cupcakes.

So that's the origin of

trampolining.

The origin of,

well, hurling.

Well, this goes back a long way.

Do any of you know the origin of hurling?

It's quite an interesting story.

Yeah, the origin of.

It's in a slightly more dangerous version of war.

A slightly more dangerous version of war.

It's not that, actually, it's actually came after St.

Patrick had chased the snakes out of Ireland.

He thought, what next?

He thought, I'm going to hit the hedgehogs out of Ireland as well.

Patrick, we don't mind the hedgehogs.

Oh, well, in that case, I'll focus on catapulting the pigeons into space.

Look, it was really just the fing snakes, Patrick, but let me do my job.

I'm going to discus the tortoises into the Atlantic.

No, it's not.

And

who said comedy can't be educational?

No.

Gaelic football goes back to the legendary Irish king,

I might have pronounced this wrong, Groja Forøilroch of

dumb grallocks.

He defeated the Vikings at the Battle of Stragagagagalan

by chopping off the head of Viking leader Eric the Schitt and

kicking it first over and then into the open mouth of a dragon.

So is Dublin very dominant in

football?

Yes.

And

I mean, so

do you think something needs to be done about it to make it more...

I mean, maybe you could just try selling all the clubs to Russian oil billionaires and

dodgy oil magnates from the Gulf area, because that's what sport's really about.

When you think of all those Bangladeshi slave labourers in the UAE who are going to be watching Manchester City, thinking, yes, that is my team.

That is my, all those oil workers in Siberia when Abramovich bought Chelsea, thinking, at last I have something to work for.

Are you fans of

football?

Soccer, soccer football?

Yes,

because I like all sports generally, but I get annoyed by players feigning injury in

football.

I guess that probably doesn't happen in hurling too much.

Players have been known to be decapitated in play on, and they look like hold a head in one hand.

But in football,

they are learning from other sports, learning from rugby,

bringing in video refs.

I'm not sure that's going to work because fundamentally, players, often you have a player diving and being fouled simultaneously.

And it's a huge waste of money.

I think, rather than the video refs in football, they should just get a pagan priest to stand by the side of the pitch.

And whenever there is a controversial decision, they turn to the priest, and the priest slays a goat,

slices open its guts, rips it open, and looks at the entrails of this dead goat and says, Yeah, that was offside.

And

I think we'd respect that just as much, as long as you do it with confidence, and as long as there's consistency.

That's what the fans want.

Ryan Kenahan.

Are you here?

Thanks for this, Ryan.

Would you please satirise how everyone thinks their kid is a genius?

Well,

I mean, I know my kids are geniuses, so it's not the same for me.

But I have noticed travelling around Ireland, there are quite a lot of statues of the ultimate's mother who thought their kid was so special.

That joke could have gone in a number of different ways.

Look, as I said, I'm Jewish, so that joke's fine.

Anyway.

And you also ask, I teach architecture.

Alright, Christopher Rand, don't fing flash it about, mate.

Now,

I could really use a few puns.

Any chance of an architectural pun run.

So.

Well.

So.

Well.

I mean, it's always a risk doing this not as the very last thing of a gig, but

I had a friend who was

an architect.

Look, to people who do not listen to the bugle, this bit will now be very confusing indeed.

I had this friend who was an architect and he won an award who had to go and collect it at a gala ceremony in the US.

And he said, I'm going to invite all my favourite former Democratic presidents, Jimmy, Bill, Barack.

And I said, why do you think the American people voted for Trump?

And he said, simple, they got thick.

Got thick.

Got thick.

Yeah, these are going to be architectural style, so strap in.

I said, I think that's an oversimplification, mate.

Anyway, we started discussing which historical figures he'd hypothetically like to invite to his dream fantasy awards ceremony.

He said, Genghis Khan, Alaric the Visigoth, Ivan the Terrible, and Attila the Hun.

Gosh, I replied, that is a brutal list.

Anyway, also, it wasn't just an architect, he set up a business selling decorative fossils and French water.

He called it the Rock O Co.

Anyway,

while I was at his house, his phone went off, made his dog bark.

There were lots of bow wows.

Bow house.

Bow house, bow house.

He said, I've got to take this.

I said, is it a booty call?

And he said, not exactly.

It's my collie dog who lives with my animal film-obsessed ex-wife over the pond in the Big Apple.

So, no, it's not a booty call.

It's a New York glassy call.

Does that work?

Nick neoclassical, New York.

Anyway.

He spent a lot of time in America with his celebrity friends.

He told me he'd once gone to a party with Simon and Garfunkel and had seen the latter in deep conversation with the 1988 Olympic 100-metre champion Florence Griffith Joyner.

Wow, I said,

I had no idea that art new flow,

art new flow.

Anyway.

Right.

Just two more, two more.

So well.

My friend, he was obsessed with the Old Testament.

He designed an ark.

It was 14 stories high, his ark.

He had different decks for all the different groups of creatures to minimize the risk of predation.

He explained, I put the apex predators on deck A, right at the top.

You've got scavengers on deck C, for example, poultry on deck H.

And I said, where have you put the snakes?

And he said, I hate those slithery bastards.

I want them out of the way.

Right at the bottom.

On deck N?

I said, No, there's no deck I because it looked like deck one, won't it?

So they're not on deck N.

I said, Ah, deck O.

Nailed the dismount.

He also had to work on a farm for a bit when business wasn't so good.

But he had this almost supernatural intuition for when to to bring in dried grass before the weather turned and it started pissing it down.

He had an amazing rain hay sense for it now.

That makes sense?

That makes sense.

Right, that is it.

Well, that concludes this week's free bonus sub-bugle bugle.

I do hope you've enjoyed it.

Don't forget to come to all of the remaining tours on my Satirist for High Show and send in your emails to satirise this at satiristforhire.com.

The remaining shows are the 19th of February in canterbury that is alarmingly soon or already in the past depending on when you listen to this then the 26th of february in newcastle the 27th in chorley and the 3rd of march in cambridge finishing on the 4th of march in bristol also i'm doing a charity fundraising gig on the 1st of march in brixton in london in aid of refugees who generally could do with a little bit of help i will tweet details of that in the near future and my show at the melbourne international comedy festival in april is now on sale details on the internet I will also be doing shows in Sydney, Auckland and Wellington.

And don't forget the Radiotopia Live tour of the east coast of the USA begins on the 7th of May.

Do come along to see a Bugle Stroke Illusionist mash-up featuring me and my sister, Helen Doltzmann.

Next week, we will have the best bits of the Bugle Live Show at the Leicester Square Theatre in London, featuring Nish Kumar and Alice Fraser.

Until then, Buglers, goodbye.

Hi Buglers, it's producer Chris here.

I just wanted to very quickly tell you about my new podcast Mildly Informed which is in podcast feeds and YouTube right now.

Quite simply, it's a show where me and my friend Richie review literally anything.

So please come join us wherever you get your podcasts right now.