I love the show, always have, always will. I have no shame in telling people that I watch Neighbours and I'll champion how good it is to anyone who will listen. More people should watch it and this week was a great place to reconnect with those forgotten neighbours.
I'm always interested in how people connect with one another. So it worries me that, in some UK villages, towns and cities, getting to know our neighbours seems to have fallen out of fashion. It should, in fact, be a priority.
I had initial concerns that a Neighbours' audience might not really go for my anarchic style of comedy, but my fears were unfounded - the show was well received. Britain gobbled up dissent. I felt at home. I would be back.
I put my agitprop comedy theatre and my cinematic art ambitions aside, swallowed my pride and threw myself into the absurd world of Soap Opera. The work was relentless and demanding, a grinding sausage factory of five day a week TV.
Trust me, I totally understand a lady's right to a little wink wink, nudge nudge. Sex, in a nutshell. It's just, normally, I like to at least know a person's name before I get a good look at their nethers.