“Swindon or Sweden? Choose.”

TH: Knock knock.
Leftwing Idiot: Who’s there?
TH: God.
Leftwing Idiot: God who?
TH: Your fucking God of poached eggs.

Leftwing Idiot and I were out in our area. I was emitting my normal, frequent vocal tics. As we walked past a police officer on a bike, she turned towards us, pointed at me and told me to “Stop that.” I was surprised by how angry I felt so I turned back to explain.…

My tics fall into three broad categories. First, the regular tics I say hundreds of times every day. Second, the occasional tics that I’ll say only once or a handful of times. These two categories have already been discussed. I haven’t yet talked about the third type that are intense explosions of themed tics which come out over a short period of time with fearsome force.…

Joanna Lumley was at the checkout next to me in Sainsbury’s this afternoon:

“Shit, shit, shit,” – shriek, squeal – “Shit, dog, dog food,” – finger in the air – squeal.

Her response, or lack of, has done nothing to dent my impression of her as a sound human being.

This evening I answered an unsolicited market research call on the house phone. The caller ploughed on despite the unusual noises I was making. Because this wasn’t a call I had any interest in I made no explanation for the screeching.…

“PAT Test your carpet.”

“Face paint your dog.”

It’s been a while since I’ve travelled by tube at rush hour. It’s a pretty unpleasant experience for everyone and this evening I experienced the added difficulties that having Tourettes can present in this situation.

I waited on a busy platform at Green Park, squawking, jerking and shouting.…

A couple of days ago I was writing with a biro when I ticced and accidentally drew on Leftwing Idiot’s cream sofa. He made a bit of a fuss but I knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

Last night I dreamt I’d spilt ink on his bed.…