I didn’t mean to offend him, but I was arguing with strangers on a radio programme when he called round. In trying to make up, I was met with the full force of karma
As our world shrinks down to one daily spell of fake exercise, the universe of decisions gets smaller and smaller. Should the dog be allowed to wear his coat indoors, or won’t he feel the benefit? Shall I start doing dry January on the 28th or 29th? The doorbell has gone; should I answer it? I am always a hard yes on that last question. Wet hair, in a dressing gown, midway through fine dining, I always go to the door because the alternative is having some perfectly good leg warmers stolen off the doorstep, or a world of redelivery pain I won’t get round to.
So let’s say it wasn’t out of character that I answered the door while I was live on air, over the phone, explaining to LBC’s listeners why Boris Johnson shouldn’t have cycled seven miles to the Olympic Park. In a lockdown, this is the closest I can get to my happy place (arguing with strangers in a pub). I was trying to express the prime minister’s responsibilities in a relatable analogy: “Nick Ferrari, my friend, imagine you’re a headmistress, with a very strict uniform code, and skirts have to come exactly to the knee, and all the girls are constantly trying to wear them shorter.”
