Thanks, Mum. Cheers, Chris

    Weekday tea-times are in ruins. One can rarely condone celebrity stalking, but really, Mum – Chris from Egg Heads?

‘Who will beat the Eggheads?’ Well it won’t be you Mum, not in the next 18-months anyway. The real victim in this is me. They took BBC2 away from our tele as part of your restraining order so your incarceration condemns me to a year and a half of Tipping bloody Point while eating peanut butter sandwiches  as the cooking programmes don’t start til 8 (you can’t count Come Dine With Me as you would kill me if I had strangers round). I’ll miss you of course, but not as much as I will Jeremy Vine. And Daphne.

The magistrate wouldn’t accept your explanation that it was Chris’ glasses you couldn’t resist. He had a point, reminding you that the last celebrity you were arrested for menacing was Michael Portillo, whose eyesight is consistently portrayed on our screens as uncorrected, even when reading his Bradshaw. What’s more, being cross-examined under oath, you were bound to confess your hatred of the thoroughly bespectacled Tim Wonnacott and utter ambivalence to Richard Osman.

But Chris, Mum? I could understand if it was Barry or Kevin.

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