#0069. HANGING OUT WITH CHURCH FOLK.

I've just got back from a school nativity play. In a church. And whenever I go to church, I really like to give the impression that I'm one of the guys. You know -- I'm church folk. But however hard I try, I never quite manage to pull it off.

ME: "All right guys. Tell you what -- that Jesus Christ, what a legend! He was a real one-off. There'll never be another. Seriously, they broke the mould when they made Jesus."

THEM: ...

ME: "Maybe I'll just go and get a communion wafer."

Oh, and FYI -- if you're a childless 28-year-old male watching a primary school nativity play, try to avoid any sentence that starts with the phrase:

"Listen mate, even if I was a paedophile…"

#0068. TALKING TO NANS ON THE PHONE.

I think it's fair to say that nans have never really got to grips with the telephone. It's the shouting that gets me. It's like they don't trust the telephone to get the job done, so they're going to shout really, really loud so maybe you'll just hear them anyway.

The thing about talking to my nan on the phone is, the moment there's a break in the conversation, she's gone.

ME: Just wanted to say thanks for the money.

NAN: That's right.

ME: Yep. It was really kind.

BEAT.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

ME: Hello? Hello?

#0067. RED LETTER DAYS.

I have an irrational fear of the Red Letter Day. I live in a state of almost perpetual terror that one day someone is going to buy me a 'gift experience', like hot-air ballooning, or sky-diving, or speed-boating.

This is always the worst time of year for us Red Letter-phobics. Because quite frankly, who knows what goes on in a mother's head around Christmas time? Particularly when she gets to Debenhams to discover to her horror that they've sold out of these. Or even these.

For the record, I'd hate the whole 'riding in a sports car' one the most. I've done this kind of thing before. Mainly, you just sit in the passenger seat while a Real Man drives you around, leaving you feeling like a cross between Fay Wray in King-Kong and a man in a wheelchair watching his girlfriend having a salsa lesson.

I'll just have the money thanks.

#0066. MY "HEY GAY COUPLE -- I'M ALRIGHT WITH IT" FACE.

This is a face I do whenever I'm around a gay couple. Because for some unfathomable reason, I feel like I've got to constantly let them know that I don't have a problem with it.

I'm always trying to catch their eye so I can smile at them. It's like I'm saying, "Hey gay couple. I'm OK with this. In fact, I love being around you lot. It's great. Not that I'm looking to enrol. I'm just saying. In fact, snog if you want. I'd barely even notice. That's how fine I am with it."

I can't help but feel this partly explains why I don't have any gay friends.

#0065. "RAMEKIN."

What a terrible waste of a truly brilliant word.

Ramekin. It sounds like some kind of medieval weapon. As in: "And lo, I did banish mine Orcish adversary with an decisive blow of mine blood-red ramekin."

Or maybe the name of a post-industrial German thrash-metal band. As in: "Ich bin ein mega-fan auf Deutschland's original crazy party babies und kunstgeräusche terroristen Ramekin!"

But no. It's actually "a small oven-proof dish with vertical fluted sides designed to hold a single serving of a prepared food, especially one that is baked." And not, say, a really awesome 7th century bo-staff.

All I'm saying is, if I was the word 'ramekin', I'd be really quite cheesed off.

#0064. PEOPLE AT TRAFFIC LIGHTS WHO ATTEMPT TO TELL YOU THAT YOU HAVEN'T SWITCHED YOUR HEADLIGHTS ON.

I mean, I know they're trying to help and everything, but do they have to do the face. Watch the video if you don't know what I mean.

First they vigorously mouth the words, "Wind your window down," then, just in case you didn't get that, they accompany it with a rapid window-winding hand gesture. They're doing the whole 'talking to a deaf person' thing -- it's all lips and no sound.

For future reference, I'd rather keep my headlights off and take a chance with the traffic than have to look at you and your big stupid lips.

#0063. OPENING YOUR EYES TO THE HORRIFYING DISCOVERY THAT YOUR DOG IS WATCHING YOU MASTURBATE.

You're caught in two minds -- half of you just wants to get on with it, the other half feels guilty for corrupting his delicate little doggy brain. Then there's the fear that he's going to give you away when your girlfriend gets home.

"What's that Digger? … He was doing what…"

I mean, you can try to get him to look the other way if you want, but there's just something about that action that seems to fascinate him.

He's watching you and thinking, "Oh my god… He's gonna throw something! He is! … That's odd. Why can't he let go of it? … No! Wait! Here it comes! Here it comes! … OK, I'm not fetching that."