Steve Coogan. Friends on the radio talking about him. He has a celebratory cake that he takes a slice and then puts the rest in tin foil or the fridge for alter. He also gets a bit box of chocolates and takes all the white chocolate ones out.

They came round and we’re laughing about it, not realising Steve was coming down the stairs. He pushed passed them and ran out.

We followed – I was with them now – and tried to sing to cheer him up. We tried beach boys harmonies; singing heartbeat but only in “oooohs”, so I said we sounded like the ghost of Buddy Holly; and singing like the Chipmunks. We lost him and just wandered around a market singing.

Later, I’d done something to upset my dog Zeta, and she said – she could talk – the only way to make it up to me was to introduce me to the new school bus driver. She was a cool chick who drove a big open-top beach buggy style car that seated probably about 30. I took Zeta out on her lead and she sniffed around and climbed on the car. The woman liked seeing her and gave Zeta some fuss. Zeta then sat down next to her, stretching her legs out. I started stroking Zeta’s feet, but realised one of the feet was the woman’s bare foot. I laughed it off saying “Sorry, too many feet, hard to tell whose is whose.” But she said she didn’t mind. I then started giving them both a foot rub, which they both liked, and moved onto their other feet.