Last week I wrote about my annoying new “What about cats?” tic, but there’s some contention amongst my friends about how new it really is, with some claiming it’s been around for months.

I do have one tic that’s definitely new on the scene though, and I find it a lot less irritating:

“I’m a solid”

As well as enjoying it and the ideas it conjures up, I’m also enjoying the range of responses from my friends.…

A couple of days ago one of my tics took me aback and made me laugh with surprise:

“Scotch egg castle and the exasperated carrot.”

It wasn’t the content of the tic that made me chuckle but the fact that I pronounced ‘castle’ and ‘exasperated’ with a short ‘a’.…

I’ve had a new regular tic for the last few weeks: “What about cats?”

Unusually it’s been really irritating me. I don’t normally notice my own tics, particularly regular ones. They quickly become background noise – a constant, gentle reminder that I’m still alive.…

Chopin and I have been hanging out all day, which has been lovely. I can’t believe it’s only a year since we started working on Backstage In Biscuit Land together.

This evening we created something else, something even more colourful, bizarre and spectacular than Biscuit Land itself – Easter bonnets!…

I often talk about how much laughter my tics generate. But today was exceptional and saw Leftwing Idiot, Will, and me bent over in agony from too much cracking up.

We were on our way to lunch and Leftwing Idiot was singing a song he’d learnt from one of the children at work.…

The other night as I got ready for bed my vocal tics were distracted from their usual focus. The lamp-post I normally chat to as part of my bedtime routine was let off the hook for a change, to be replaced by a bold new subject – Will’s testicles.…

Eighteen months ago Poppy and I bet that she wouldn’t be able to grow her hair to her shoulders by 15th March 2015 – and that’s today. It wasn’t a big bet, only £20, but we’ve both been taking it very seriously from then on.…

Fat Sister was on the phone to my dad earlier, discussing the on-going work on her bathroom. She had to go next door because every time she started a sentence with ‘I’ll…’ my tics made an inappropriate suggestion about what she’d be doing:

“I’ll… be fucking myself with a pair of shoes.”…

Poppy and I have been hanging out today and a while ago she had an exchange with my tics that had her in stitches. Here’s how it went:

TH: You know Peter?
Poppy: Peter who?
TH: Peter-borough. He sexed a horse.…

Around this time four years ago the tics in my legs (which were already giving me a very unusual style of walking) intensified and started having a much bigger impact on my mobility. At the time I was living in my old lair, which I shared with Fat Sister and King Russell.…