It comes in handy when I need a laugh. I just play a bwah-oh-whomp and suddenly, the world feels better. The comedy bang. The sound effect of smiles. Just at that, gormless Ed Miliband was pelted with eggs in a London market.
"They better be free range,"' whispered one of the Milibandian advisors as she ruefully wiped a double yoker from her iPad. The security detail was scrambled. Jokes were poached. The culprits were told to beat it or they'd be fried. Trombone! Quick!!! Bwah-oh-whomp.
It will be interesting to see if Kenny - my decision and my decision alone - MacAskill intercedes with this Peruvian drug bust. Is it just me or do you look at the picture of the girls accused of being drug mules and think, that's just so tragic… that doughnut on her head is just too big and stupid. There's probably two kilos of coke in that bun.
The Norwegian Prime Minister went undercover as a taxi driver, in a bid to hear exactly what people were talking about. In Scotland he would be done for kerb crawling, but that's another matter. (Incidentally, that's just a comic aside and not a legal opinion). Imagine if you got into a taxi in London and David Cameron turned around? The first thing you'd do is look around to see if there were any security guards then say, "Skye please, mate". Then all the way up you could act like you didn't know him.
"Hi, I'm Dave - don't you recognise me?"
"No, sorry mate. Look, just drive." Then go back to your serious phone call: "right, and you can make this problem go away?"
Following the Ed egging I got into a taxi and was recognised. Recognised as a member of my family. This taxi driver knew my brother and asked if I was his wee brother? I said yes. He then said are you the one who writes the comedy? I said yes, are you the Norwegian Prime Minister? The comedy jet flew over his head.
He asked if I'd been to the festival. He asked what I thought about comedy. He asked me loads of questions which he also answered. He was bitter about everything connected to the nation's capital. "Edinburgh's got everything. Glasgow's got nothing. Edinburgh even has a castle."
"Glasgow has a fort". Comedy trombone bang. I'd left it in the house. Gag two went well over his head. He wasn't listening to me.
"Have you been through to Edinburgh?"
"Aye right. No, I'm no' going away through there. It's extortionate!" He made it sound like he'd need a passport and a visa. Like a difficult trip to Warsaw, Afghanistan or the North Pole.
"It's a nice day out on the train. You can walk about, take in the atmosphere. It's cheaper after nine."
"No way. Edinburgh? No chance."
Later I got all philosophical. There's loads of people think like that. It's a peculiarly Scottish thing. People in England think nothing of an hour each way or a 180 mile daily commute, yet west central Scots, well we have our nose out of joint if anything's more than 20 minutes away. I don't know how that mindset will play out in the referendum but you have to concede that many Scots think like that. They like their street or town and don't care too much for change.
There was a big announcement of the new organisation that would oversee Edinburgh's integrated tram and bus system. They look familiar. It's Jack, Stan and Blakey from On the Buses. "I'll get you Butler!" They will also be responsible for other forms of travel including cycling and walking. Walking is a form of travel? I've been dodging fares since I was 18 months-old.
On the subject of transport, I read a piece about Scotland's transport minister, Keith Brown. I have to confess I would've walked by him in the street. Apart from the ones who are in the paper for the dodgy stuff, I hardly recognise any of them. Which brings me nicely to the concept of Who Do You Think You Are? This week it surpassed itself by actually doing what it did on the tin. The subject of the show was the actress Lesley Sharp. I'm sure she's interesting and talented but I don't know who she is. I don't see much TV. I think the title could be tweaked to Who Do You Think I Am? (I Honestly Don't Know, Just Tell me). I think we should be familiarising ourselves with the goings on at Holyrood and putting faces to names. Take a look at the MSP website and see how many you recognise...
Scottish Diplomats and civil servants were in Brussels meeting with NATO to discuss membership if Scotland becomes independent. There they met one Dirk Brengalmann, assistant secretary general for political affairs and security policy. He must have a desk nameplate the size of a rowing boat. Still, the Brussels trip doubled up as a fact-finding mission. It let civil servants see what a functioning tram looks like.
The political landscape was rocked to its very foundations this week when Jeremy Paxman revealed he had a beard. That barometer of all things culturally orgasmic, trending on Twitterland went pure mental, off the radar, help ma boab. Chaos. Twittersphere went into meltdown for 10 minutes before readjusting and moving on to the next big drama - Stephen Fry's small toenail needing cut or was it running out of rocket for his salad?
Apparently pogonophobia is rife at the BBC. I used to think that was a fear of punk rock but apparently it's the fear of beards. Paxo tweeted that he might keep it - or he might shave it off! WHAT???? How does he come up with these momentous statements?