Close, but no, I’ll explain again: I’d like them to pay an appropriate level of tax in the first place.

We interviewed Neil Robertson, one of my favourite players, this week, about success and failure. It was as much of a pleasure for him as it was for me. He didn't say that exactly, but it was heavily implied.

Is this the answer, really? It won’t clear up the date clash and it feels a bit glib just eating it in front of your partner with this tension between you. I’m not sure these two - very creative - players have really thought it through.

Now my replies are awash with people claiming bananas are berries or seeds or something and a car is an animal and fuck knows what else.

The aubergine is a fruit, not a vegetable, I've just heard from my mate Huw. Tomato and cucumber - fine, you get used to them being fruits over time. Potato not one of your 'five a day': a blow, but, whatever. But now aubergine is a fruit. Christ.

As some of you know, my brother has been sticking up for super-minnows Micronesia in the swamp of FIFA, football's world governing body, for years. If you want to do a tiny good thing without having to invest properly, reply to FIFA's tweet as below. Thanks!

An incomplete list of the shows I'll be helping to look after this summer. I'm also doing a work-in-progress show of my own in Edinburgh but it won't be on sale till next month; is on an ambitious subject which will take time to nail; you are not to watch it.

Announcement tomorrow ... Impatient Productions

Fellow passenger's phone goes off and the ringtone is Auld Lang Syne. Nobody was expecting that. Has he not had a call since December 31 or does he just love the tune and refuse to back down?

He typed this one letter at a time and he 100 percent has keyboard sounds on.

During the match the camera went in on Grealish and I had this incredibly vivid vision of what he’ll look like at 70. It was so convincing. Same face, still fit, but the hair and teeth just gone a bit. I don’t know what to do with this power.

Welwyn Garden City. ‘A marriage of town and country’ it says on the station sign. From here, you’d have to say it doesn’t seem to have been an equal marriage.

Trying to book for a play. Cheapest tickets are 50 quid with 'very limited view of the stage', as if being able to see what's happening is a peripheral concern. Theatres talk a lot about making it more accessible; fair play to this one for not even pretending to give a shit.

I complain about trains a lot here, so I should place on record I have just completed a journey from Glasgow to Ipswich, on a public holiday, without a hitch. Three trains, eight hours. About the length of a transatlantic flight. We all make different life choices.

I didn’t know this (it’s my old publisher) but two of my better novels are available for a pound until March is over. Which it soon will be. Ideal for newer fans who don’t remember when I had very short hair.

If you're coming to the Ipswich show tonight and you support your local team, I would like your energy to reflect the favour Bristol City FC have just done you.

I remember that old luvvie cardiac surgeon of mine poncing around my chest cavity, putting in a woke new aortic valve.

No More Jockeys fans, behold this work: every name ever played in NMJ, represented in a tapestry by THIRTY-EIGHT collaborating artists. I'm no art historian but I think this will be remembered alongside the Mona Lisa etc. But it's better because you get loads more characters.

A debrief on last week’s memorable trip to San Marino to see the world’s most beleaguered international football team, as they were tipped to win for the first time in 20 years (they did not).

EVERYBODY I email is on annual leave; my inbox is just a dump of automated replies. Be honest, I won't be angry: have you all gone on a giant holiday without me?