People keep giving me pity eyes. "You're very brave," they say, rubbing my shoulder, as if I'm ill. But I'm not ill. What I am, though, is terrified. Because this week I'll be making my stand-up comedy debut in front of about 300 people. Am a comedian? No. I'm a sub editor
Enjoy yourselves, people. There's nothing to be gained from living like this. It's not so much the booze I miss. It's the cigarettes. I'm absolutely dying for a fag. I'm cranky. I'm miserable. All I do is eat.
When I was small, smaller than I am now, I learned a wise lesson from my Godmother, who, despite being very learned and cultured, loved nothing more than watching Blind Date on a Saturday night. At first I wondered why; eventually I realised she was interested in people for people's sake.
I am so proud of The Ricky Gervais Show. Not just because of how well it turned out or how successful it was, or the awards, or even how much fun I had producing it. I'm proudest of the fact that it was just another experiment that got out of hand - The Ricky Gervais Show Series Three was released on DVD this week. To celebrate this final chapter I thought I'd tell the lovely readers of The Huffington Post the story of how we got here...
Everyone keeps asking what I am going to do now that The Office is ending. I liberated myself on live radio by simply saying, "I'm gonna kill myself."
As May is International Zombie Awareness Month, I offer my bloodied hand to guide you through the five things you need to know to survive a zombie apocalypse... armed only with some of Oxford University Press's finest online products and a ferocious temper. Are you ready? Let's go!
So what do we do when this ends? Who do we turn to next? What's our mirror? Do we just get sad that we might not have a show like this anymore?
I mean, really, you can barely see white people anymore unless you turn on cable news, walk into a boardroom of a Fortune 500 company or watch C-SPAN.
Before I arrived, people kept telling me that there's this feeling you get where you're sure you've seen everything before on film at some point, because in all likelihood you have. And they weren't wrong. It's all just as big and tall, the taxis just as yellow and the bagels just as bagel-ly as in the movies.
People often ask what happens in a typical day as head chef at my restaurant Hartnett Holder & Co, at Lime Wood, deep in the heart of the New Forst? It's impossible to answer. Take last week for example. You'll never believe what we all had to do... a music video! I'm not talking Backstreet Boys here, it wasn't quite that painful, but it was beyond hysterical.
Where to start. Why am I writing this? Good question. Is it because I am in the midst of organising a comedy night on the 18th May at the Union Chapel called Bring it Home, with some of the best talent on the circuit today and this is a cynical attempt at PR? Lord no!
Who were my thighs kidding? I haven't been inside my gym's hallowed walls in... 18... no, maybe 30 months... Some gyms just do not want you to leave, as soon as you try to cancel they look you up and down with judgement in their eyes and tell you all the reasons you should stay.
'Legs like lead, legs like lead,' I panted, like a sort of tortured mantra, as I pounded along the footpath, ducking under branches. The dog streaked ahead, loving the wind and the gentle rain, as light on its paws as I was heavy on mine. My legs, that is.
What have you got after a wedding? A dress you will hopefully never wear again, a ring you'll constantly be terrified of losing, hazy memories of an argument with a friend over nothing, a colossal hangover, and a million photos and hours of boring video.
Once consumers get over their misgivings, and recognise what a cheap and convenient meal deal this could be, I believe they'll take to it with the same appetite once displayed by our ancestors.
Perhaps it's time for men to be judged on the same terms as women. Perhaps it's about time that we should feel bad about our appearance because we aren't willing to spend hours every day in the gym conforming to the new expectations.
I like the opening five minutes of The Apprentice the best I think. Mainly because of the contestants' VTs; which this year contained some very bold and arousing statements. "I am a great of my generation. I take inspiration from Napoleon," so says a small man wearing ladies sunglasses.
My seemingly from nowhere attachment issues came out recently, horribly, when two decorators came to convert my bathroom into a shower room. No it didn't happen in B&Q, although I have cried in there a few times before.
Apparently I have 18,220 days left to live. And according to some, I've already hit middle age! Being asked for identification on my 30th birthday was a pleasant surprise. It was only later on that night I found out they were just checking my ID to make sure I was the girl who booked the venue.