mousehands : ask philip

showing question #190

question from Hastings Mesh

I had a dream last night that Derek Acorah and Johnathan Edward were buried up to their necks in my front garden, this wouldnt be a problem if Colin Fry, who I had planted ages ago, didnt find out and throw monsterous hissy-fit.
He wont even pretend to talk to my dead relatives or sing for me anymore. how will I get through the rainy season without flowerbed-medium singsong?

Traditionally, this is more of a question for your common or garden Titchmarsh or Gavin, but they have fallen out of favour for impersonating bloodless dynamo-catching hippos. The whole scenario was tragic and ultimately regrettable for the green-toothed pair and is exclusive to the gubbins experience repertoire.

The answer to your musically-lacking border muddle is more simple than you might imagine; the fog of fear blinds you and masks the visage of none other than Barry Norman. He is the singing man of your dreams, a film-reviewing songmeister from beyond all human experience.

This question was asked on 31 March 2006 and answered 1 month and 3 days later on 3 May 2006.