I'm dyslexic. That's right. Richard Branson, Albert Einstein, Henry Winkler and Orlando Bloom and I can all officially high-five each other. Now dyslexia affects people in different ways. It can be a major block to getting through school and getting through work. However, dyslexia isn't all that bad. In fact I ABSOLUTELY FREAKING LOVE IT. Here's why...
Having spent a wet afternoon in Richmond Park earlier this week flag waving HRH the Queen on her royal progression to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee, I did feel for the drenched military and community entourage.
I was chatting to absurdist comedian Charlie Chuck this week. Or, rather, to the real person who performs as Charlie Chuck - Dave Kear. He told me he had been researching his family tree.
Richard Herring explained to me yesterday: "I was told I couldn't use the words 'dick' and 'fuckinghamshire' in the 40 words. I wasn't too surprised about the 'fuckinghamshire' ("honourable member for fuckinghamshire" was the line) even though that isn't a swear word and presumably means you have to censor 'Scunthorpe' too.
"We live in a Post-post-Leveson world," he muses, cupping his b*lls. "People expect their journalism to be fresh, healthy, handmade now. We sell ours at journalism markets - truly horrifying f**kfests which take place in Stoke Newington school playgrounds and attract the very worst kind of smug pram-pushing broadsheet reader."