This morning, as someone a generation younger than me pedalled the assault bike, wafting a reviving draft of cool air over me as I did crunches on the mat, I resisted to the urge to call "Keep it up, punka wallah!"
Today I listened to @gralefrit.bsky.social telling Richard Herring that it’s skilful to choose not to do comedy material about Blake’s Seven in front of people who don’t know it. Hours earlier, in the gym I’d decided not to hiss “Cally, teleport NOW!” into the band that holds the weights on the bar.
