Here we go with another run of Displacement Activity, the blog imbued with the spirit of the age. That is, that the patent lack of something to say or the ability to say it need not be a barrier to you shouting loudly and randomly at the top of your voice.
In the past I've sought to skewer the rich and famous with blinding shafts of satire, to expose our political elite for the self-serving greaseballs they invariably are, and in my own humble way to shine a light on the things that really ought to matter in today's troubled times. These efforts will, of course, continue, even though they haven't earned me a damn penny from those bastard commissioning editors at Radio 4.
There will also be room, now and again, for more personal insights, as I explore the rich seam of humour that is life in the commuter belt of the Home Counties. Yes, I know I should be using Twitter for that sort of stuff, but, frankly, the prospect of me condensing a message into 140 characters is as likely as the Queen launching the Olympics with a chorus of Knees Up Mother Brown.
So why not join me over the next few days, weeks, months or however long it takes before this blog runs into the sand like the last two attempts? There's no need to be self-conscious. Thanks to advances in mobile technology, your friends and colleagues need never know. They'll think you're just consulting your e-mail. Except if you give it away by laughing, but, hey, what are the chances of that?
Look, I tell you what. I'll come back in a day or so with the first update and you can see what you think. I'll even put in some jokes if you like. If I can just remember where I stashed that Beano annual from 1965....