Andy Ward talks to himself.

The heralded microphone arrived today, that I’ve been hoping will allow me to make lovely podcasts at home, and cart a laptop about the country like some kind of electronic David Dimbleby to revive the Llamageddon podcasts too. It came in a big box, which was very exciting. I rarely get parcels, and when I do they’re just full of severed hands and notes saying ‘I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER’, which has got quite tiring now. They can’t even be meant for me, I didn’t do anything last summer. I went to Edinburgh for a few days and did a number of shift at One Stop, I don’t know whose wrath I could have incurred for that. Presumably the wrath of a man who hates two things, haggis and convenience stores. They call him ‘The Convenient Haggis Killer’. If your Haggis isn’t overly complicated, to the point where you can’t even open it because it’s sealed with a cryptex, I’d lock your doors.

Anyway, yeah, the microphone arrived today. It’s a Logitech USB Microphone if anybody cares. I was very excited. I’d started planning podcasts I was going to release. There were lots of exciting plans. Then I plugged it in and gave it a try. It is, for want of a better word, bobbins. Spectacularly bobbins. I mean, admittedly, it only cost £16 on Amazon, but it had some really good reviews. People were saying things like “This microphone is surprisingly good for £16! Wowzers!” etc, and I thought that it would thus be a great product. It is not. Unless you want to sound like Robocop, and most of the time, I don’t. I had some Robocop pyjamas once, when I was around 5 or 6. I think they’re my favourite item of clothing ever. How I miss them. Anyway, the microphone. The final insult is that when it’s assembled, it actually looks like a giant middle finger. I can’t help but think this is deliberate.

Looking for better options, I can see that I’m probably going to have to fork out around £100 if I want something properly decent. This is a considerable amount of money when you’re working part-time in a rubbish job. I should really look into getting sponsored. Perhaps by Pure Waffle. There could be absolutely no more perfect sponsor for our podcast than Pure Waffle I believe. I’m pretty much already their spokesperson without earning any money. Anybody I’ve spoken to for longer than about 5 minutes will attest to this, and yet, as far as I’m aware, none of the many people I’ve recommended Pure Waffle to have yet listened to what I’m saying and actually gone there. It’s near Selfridges in London. Look it up on Google Maps, and when you go there, don’t let yourself by fooled by the nearby ‘Gourmet Wonder Waffle’ stands. They’re not what I’m talking about. Pure Waffle is pretty much the Mecca of waffles. Maybe I should organise a coach trip there. We’ll all pile onto our bus and sing songs about waffles, before we

I’VE GOT SOME SOUP DOWNSTAIRS!

Sorry, I just remembered that. I bought some this morning. I’m going to have some soon, that’ll be fun.

Anyway, we’ll pile onto our bus, and sing songs about waffles, then all bundle into Pure Waffle, to the delighted smiles of their patron, Mr Waffle (I don’t know his name, but he’s always there, and he seems very friendly), who’ll say “Andy, finally this sponsorship has paid off! Have a lifetime’s supply of cash!”, to which I’ll reply “Don’t be silly Mr Waffle! I’ll just have one of your pecan and butterscotch waffles and a glass of horlicks and we’ll call it quits.” Then he’ll probably say something along the lines of “God bless us, every one” and we’ll all eat the biggest goose in the city. It’ll be magical.

Failing that, none of you will actually turn up, apart from me, who’ll chug up in a dusty old megabus, vomit up a chair that I accidentally inhaled because it wasn’t properly secured to the floor, then proceed to be sworn at by Mr Waffle for three hours straight because the 200 customers I promised haven’t actually materialised.

Anyway, yeah. Maybe they’d sponsor us. I’m off to get some soup now. Maybe soup would sponsor us. Not Heinz or anything. Just soup in general. Llamageddon, sponsored by soup. That would make my life.