The Pitch

All right, here's the pitch for my new TV programme.

Larry David with elastoplasts. That's the pitch. It's called Ouch, My Goddamn Nose, and every episode ends with the central character (me) getting punched in the nose and bleeding profusely. For instance, I make an 'ironic' sexist remark to someone in a shop, she challenges me on it, I compound the misunderstanding, and unlike Curb Your Enthusiasm it isn't remotely funny, it's just horrible. Then she punches me in the nose and I start to bleed. The episode ends with me sitting on a park bench bleeding and crying.

In the next episode, still wearing a plaster, I inadvertently send someone an email meant for someone else describing the first person as a complete jerk and waste of skin. We meet, I apologise, the apology isn't accepted, the offended party punches me in the nose and I start to bleed again, and none of this is remotely funny. On the contrary, it illustrates the important point that short of you being Larry David (i.e. the total human population minus one) embarrassing situations are just that, embarrassing, and frequently end in random acts of violence.

By the way, I notice you've put on a fair bit of weight recently. The thing about sweaty male breasts and white shirts is they just don't mix. As least you're not as fat as that other bloke reading this. Who ate all the pies? He did, evidently. The big fat bastard.