Quick! You have only about an hour left to listen to the first of the new series of "John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme" - featuring the Funnimore himself (not pictured), Lawry "Legs" Lewin, Carrie "Feet" Quinlan, Margaret "Cabourn" Smith and my weird, slurpy voice - before they go and put out another ("they" being Radio 4 at half past six this evening) and, really, whose fault is that? Having gone to the trouble of setting up this blog, picking out the wallpaper etc, you might hope I'd be a bit more on the ball when it comes to plugging stuff like this, the perishables, off-the-air in a week, but there you go. Apologies. Plugging the show means writing about John, and that's quite a trick to manage without sounding utterly sycophantic. And I have to take a step back, and then - it turns out - another, and then another, because it's simply impossible not to still feel close to him. I can't imagine what it's like for his fans. He's good as gold. Let's leave it at that. "Says you!" says you. Fair enough. Bit rude, but here's some proof, as he makes a bad ting good at the Chortle Awards:
There's pleasanter proof of his brilliance online than this, obviously - the anarcho-syndicalist idyll of Cabin Pressure most obviously, his stirring Now Show spots, his piece on badgers, his blog, anything he's done for Mitchell and Webb of course, fuckyeahjohnfinnemore. Or this. Or indeed the show itself, quick! I guess the point of posting this particular clip was simply to show how, yeah,
Ta, boredtimelord.
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