Andy Ward talks to himself.

That’s how my day can be summed up. I think I’ve probably had about 5 Activia yoghurt drinks at this point, as well as some Greek yoghurt, and two scones. It’s been amazing. I also tested my microphone, having faced it the right way round. It’s still rubbish. Looks like I’m going to have to splash out around £115 (around two weeks wage), for a decent one to make some podcasts at home.

That’s about all I’ve done really. I’m sitting around writing some more stand-up at the moment to test at my course tomorrow. I haven’t actually done a gig since last November, due to me having been fairly poorly organised recently, but I do have some booked at some point this year, so with any luck by then I’ll have the solid 5 minute set I’ve been working towards, that would be nice.

I wrote a short paragraph of a new thriller I’m going to be working on today too. It’ll hopefully make me the new Agatha Christie, or Robert Ludlum or whoever. Somebody like that. The thing about my writing is that it’s not good writing in the traditional sense, but instead, it’s so utterly dreadful that in an odd way it does become sort of good. That’s very much the route I’m having to pursue now, the route of being so awful that I actually come right back around and become good somehow. I’ve managed to derive a fair bit of stand-up material from how thoroughly inept I am, so thankfully my continued uselessness has some benefits. Anyway, with any luck I’d like to invest in a new microphone and have completed the first in this series of thrillers (and I use that in the loosest possible sense of the word) by the end of February. I think it’s going to be a crime thriller, but it could spin off in any direction at this point. Basically what I’ve done is, I’ve come up with the title first, and worked from there. Fans of Llamageddon can thus probably imagine the kind of monstrosity that it’ll be, probably on a par with the often forgotten ‘Jingle Bills’. Happier times.

Tonight I’ll probably treat myself to a ‘Moscow Mule’, which is made through mixing vodka and ginger ale. I don’t want to come across as a complete alcoholic. I don’t just spend my days at home mixing my Activia yoghurt drinks with shots of Jack Daniels, but I figure that while we seem to have some vodka and ginger ale in the house (and I don’t know why there is any ginger ale in the house, evidently at some point we’ve robbed the Famous Five), I might as well try one. It might be good. Maybe one day I’ll be known for my love of Moscow Mules.

“Ah, there goes Andy Ward, he sure does love a Moscow Mule.”

“Yeah, shame about his series of novels though isn’t it?”

“What series of novels?”

“You know, the ones based around a laboured pun that he was hoping would really propel him into superstardom and save him from that shop.”

“Oh Christ, yeah, I’d completely forgotten about those. Didn’t they burn all the copies five years ago?”

“Yeah. Suppose that’s why he drinks so many Moscow Mules. The raging alcoholic.”

“Oh my god, I think he’s spotted us! Run before he hassles us for ginger ale!”

Something to look forward to, being an old man with ginger ale dribbling down his chin, regaling pubs with the tales of the time he once nearly worked for Channel 4, but then didn’t. Spending my nights shouting abuse at Bobby Charlton’s house because Activia didn’t reinforce my skull like he said it would.

On the plus side, at least I’ll be outside, and that’s something.