Whistling Clarabella...

My plane back from Rome Ciampino was an hour late and for no particularly good reason. When it finally got us back to Stansted, they made us all get off the plane at the front, presumably so they didn't have to pay for two lots of stairs. The plane got in at eleven pm and we finallymade it to our car an hour later. This is not a big airport, man. Grr.

Then I get home,  tired and dischuffed, to discover that Mark Lamarr has quit Never Mind The Buzzcocks except not really and he'll be back in 2007 (if it hasn't all gone arse over head without him) and joy of joys: Jason Donovan Set To Play Errol Flynn.

If I were not so very tired, if my head had not been aching almost constantly since at least Saturday afternoon, I would give you some indication of how totally fucking stupid this would be. Bitterly, bitterly ironic from my point of view, but totally stupid. Jason Donovan as The World's Most Beautiful Man? Jason Donovan as The World's Most Charming Man? Jason Donovan as The Greatest Swashbuckler To Ever Sail The Studio Seas? I think not. If I were not so tired, I would say more, but I am that tired and all I can say is this: PLEASE GOD NO!

Also: Best Thing Ever: walking towards St Peter's seeing a nun walking down the street side by side with someone wearing a Kurt Cobain t-shirt. Genius. Had I known about this Jason Donovan thing, I might have spent a great deal of time in the basilica praying to the Lord God Almighty for some seriously divine intervention.

So, we got to BBC Television Centre OK, me and my mam. Met her in the queue and we turned out to be 14th and 15th in the Buzzcocks line!

And as we were lined up outside the studio proper, waiting patiently, there was a bit of a kerfuffle...

Robbie Williams turned up out of nowhere.

I was stood literally five feet away from Robbie Williams.

I didn't shout at him.

I didn't smack him one.

I didn't call him a lousy fucking hypocritical wanker former 'dancer' for Take That from fucking Stoke.

I'm so ashamed.

Show itself wasn't bad. Chas of 'Chas n Dave' fame was a guest, so I was happy, even if he did hardly say a word. In fact, the whole thing was a little subdued and took ages. Three hours, or thereabouts to do a 1/2 show. Lamarr seemed to be in a foul mood, as opposed to his usual bitter cynicism, and the audience were hardly great aside from, well, me.

Still, anything that ends up with 'I'm not fucking Icarus!' as a punchline can't suck.

I still can't believe that I was within spitting distance of Robbie fucking Williams and I'm not in a cell and he's not in hospital. So ashamed of myself. One day, Robster, your time will come. One day.