David Cameron on the campaign trail made a revealing slip yesterday when he described the Election as “career-defining” before correcting himself and saying “country defining.”

I’ve just watched the video, and my tics immediately seized on the phrase:

“This is a real career-defining donkey.”…

We’re safely back in the UK after our epic trip to Norway. Here, with just a week until polling day, the country’s in the grip of election campaigning. Predictably my tics are too:

“This is a party election broadcast by the Donkey Kong Party.”…

After last night’s fantastic final performance of Backstage in Biscuit Land that ended with a standing ovation, we’re now on our way back to the UK. We’ve had a wonderful time, the country’s beautiful and we’ve been made very welcome.

Sure, it took us a while to get used to Norwegian currency, the Krone, and to the cost of things – compared to the UK it’s very expensive!…

This morning got off to a very early start. At 6am we carefully squeezed the entire set for Backstage in Biscuit Land into a cab and headed for Gatwick. We’re off to Vårscenefest in Tromsø, Norway for our first ever international performance.…

At last my geranium has a new home – not a completely different address, just a new pot to live in.

My geranium, Little G, is an offshoot of the much-maligned geranium that arrived in Leftwing Idiot’s kitchen four years ago.…

This morning a ‘ticcing fit’ turned into an involuntary poetry recital when my tics suddenly took flight with Icarus:

“Icarus, your mum was a piece of plastic tubing,
Your father was a bee,
And you flew too close to a Gordon Ramsey lookalike.…

Last night Will found me having a ‘ticcing fit’ in the most ridiculous position yet. On discovering me he said, ‘I can’t wait to hear how you ended up like this.’

He had to wait a while for an answer because the fit turned out to be a long and painful one.…

I’m back in London after a lovely weekend away in Cumbria with Will.

When we were travelling back yesterday I ticced, “Poems about sponges”

Will, knowing my tics would take the bait, said ‘Sponge Poem 1’, and the following strange stanzas rolled out:

TH: “Sponge, sponge glorious sponge
Dreaming of discos
While cleaning your bum.”…

I’ve mentioned that my tics love penguins in previous posts. They’re one of a random assortment of things that always make me over excited. Another is when people roll their R’s. Both inexplicably make my tics go bananas.

Just before heading to bed last night I ticced: “What noise do penguins make?”…

The large window in front of me is awash with pale orange light. In the distance there’s the silhouette of a large tree, its dense tangle of black lines extending to the edges of the delicately coloured sky. The light of the day has almost gone.…