Now, we can, of course, only guess at the details, but it strikes me that it will be very difficult for Lancel to shake off his newly acquired reputation. His role in panto this year has already been thrown into doubt because there "are children in the show."
What is the world coming to? I'm afraid, in cases like this, if the accused can be named and hounded and lose work before he's given a fair trial, then we should also be able to name the alleged victim. Whatever happened to innocent until proved guilty?
I am sick to the back teeth of all these stories coming out about famous people. Tell me just one thing. Has the Jimmy Saville case led to a rise in people who suddenly feel that they're able to report sexual crimes? People who were, perhaps too frightened to do so before? This can only be a good thing. My worry, however, is that the tendency for people to jump on the band wagon means that the only rise in people reporting these sorts of crimes concerns cases involving famous people.
A very special lady came into the post office today with a brilliantly cheery Santa hat on her head. She was a tragic sort and looked a little like a gnome. She was the sort of person who would probably need to have specially designed chairs to fit her peculiar shape.
The poor woman was having terrible issues with her hearing aid. The whole queue could hear it shrieking and whistling. Heaven knows what was going on and what it must have sounded like in the poor woman's ears! The queue shouldn't have laughed... But it we did. Uncontrollably.
I decided to come off Twitter today. Ironically, I haven't yet been able to deactivate my account and when I sent a tweet asking how to remove myself from the app, someone retweeted it!
I guess I'm just not cut out for the Twitter world. It feels rather cheap and fake; like a horrible popularity contest, and I don't need anything else in my life which makes me feel insignificant. There's actually another bloke on Twitter called Benjamin Till who has 4 times the number of followers as me, and I'm just not sure it suits me to be constantly thinking of witticisms, or trying to pretend that my life is a sparkling roller coaster just so that more people follow me. And for what purpose? I'm a composer. I write music, and if I can't use the app to publicise what I do for a living (24 days, and not a single sale of the requiem as a result), I don't really know why I'm there.
I sort of feel the same about Facebook where there are some 600 people who describe themselves as my friend. This irks me in a similar way because it means so little. I don't want group invitations sent at the flick of a button. I want to know I'm valuable enough in someone's life to receive a personal message.
At the moment I feel as though one of my feet is no longer in the same world as the rest of my body. It's probably a sign of absolute mental and physical exhaustion and the constant flux in my life coupled with a deep fear about next year and the work that may or may not come in. I wake up in bed not knowing what city I'm in. I have pains in my chest. I am distant. I find it hard to focus. My mind wanders off into fantasy worlds. Parking in a car park which doubles up as the set of Holby City only enhances this slightly existential "nothing is entirely real" existence , and when I stare for hours at my iPhone, getting dragged into a succession of virtual worlds, I sometimes feel invisible.
These thoughts will, of course, pass after a while. After a week's rest, healthy eating and exercise, I'll be right as rain again.
Anyway, I've been twiddling with this all day, and need to get back to my autocue. No rest for the wicked. Tomorrow I'm up at 5am!!