You see, the thing is, I'm not a particularly blokey bloke. I do like football but I try not to talk about it too much if I sense others aren't interested. I'm not very bothered by gadgets. I cook, iron and do the washing. Someone once asked me if I was a new man and I answered that labels were for others to place if they wished and I stand by that answer. I don't have much of a temper, I'm not a grumpy old man and the most important thing about my car is not what's under the bonnet but that it doesn't have to have a roof in the summer. I may have accidentally joined a country club which is a bit arsey and involves a ten mile round trip to go to the gym when running ten miles may have the same effect although the run wouldn't have Sky Sports, a café or a pool. But, by and large, I'm not that blokey. A bit, but not that. I'm pretty much heterosexual but try not to be heterosexist.
And I like Dave. If you don't know Dave you probably have no Freeview box. It's a channel not a person. And every time I switch to it there's something I want to watch. Old episodes of Top Gear (for the script not the cars). Bottom. Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Whose Line Is It Anyway? It's not life-changing TV. It's not important TV. It's not something you feel proud of having watched. It's certainly not edifying. But it is the antidote to there always being an episode of Friends on somewhere. It's TV to pass time. With a chuckle. What's not to love? Thanks Virgin for thinking of it. You're my special friends now.
By the way I'm blogging between Top Gear and Match of the Day 2. Mrs T has gone to Hereford for a week to open yet another shop so I'm being single again. She ought to join a shop-openers anonymous group. 'My name's Liz and I've been opening shops for eight years now. At first it was just occasionally but recently I seem to be doing one a fortnight'.