mostly david ephgrave

The weatherman on BBC Breakfast this morning said, "Today there'll be a bit more in the way of less cold air" and now I need a piece of graph paper to work that out. The double negatives in action were on a par with Pink Floyd's "We don't need no education" for sounding solid, while bearing no scrutiny; so much so, I didn't know whether to wear my scarf or not. Consequently, the guy's attempt to impart the weather was a resounding failure; he may as well have said, "Tonight will have a lot less not daylight than today has not." I can't begrudge the odd mental stumble or brain-fart when it happens to the best of us; life's by it nature very confusing. Here are just a few times the planet's perplexed me: Hearing a saxophonist play 'Baker Street' at Leicester Square tube. Spotting a picture of Elvis in the window of Boys 2 Men Barbers on Stevenage High Street. Hearing a woman scream, "Where's the bus?...

It was genuinely sad to see Bill Turnbull sign off his final appearance on the BBC Breakfast sofa this morning (subject to coming back as a guest). He exudes real warmth, which is an unusual quality for a newsreader. With some people, it would be hard to tell if this was authentic or painted on, but not with Carol Kirkwood’s “Billy”. He’s clearly the real deal; an opinion that was only cemented by watching him walk his dogs in the Peak District during his last week on the programme, and reading that part of the reason he was leaving to spend more time with his bees. In a gentle way, Turnbull was subtly subversive; cracking dad jokes one minute, then emanating sincerity the next. He was the perfect pair of hands to nudge the average sleep-encrusted British citizen through the early part of a working day. Without him, weekday mornings (and the odd Saturday) won't be the same. I’ll miss my secret daily game of guessing which presenters will be on ...

I bet this man’s favourite Beatle is Paul. Don’t let the Wilburys t-shirt fool you. It’s all in the hair. While it may be strawberry blond, there’s no mistaking that cut: it’s a mid-Nineties Macca if ever I saw it. I'm glad he’s gone for an age-appropriate McCartney hairstyle, rather than mimicking Paul’s heyday. It would be embarrassing if he'd plumped for a Sixties moptop. This morning's BBC Breakfast featured an item on artificial intelligence in which Louise Minchin interviewed a scientist who was clearly in his fifties, yet was sporting a Maharishi-era Lennon barnet that he couldn’t pull off, both literally and figuratively. It was as embarrassing as the awkward presenter / robot banter that ensued. Not that I can’t empathise with the man above or the android-loving scientist. I’ve made my own Fab-Four-follicular-faux-pas in the past. I remember taking the sleeve for McCartney’s lesser-known 1987 single ‘Once Upon a Long A...

I started the day by asking my wife how to spell fellatio. Ours isn’t a usual relationship. She’s my secret proofreader. I’m always asking her to check over blogs, press releases or Tweets. So much so, she probably finds it irritating. I hope not. I appreciate the help. She’s as pernickety about grammar as me; if she signs something off I know it’s okay.   As a side issue, I was disappointed no-one responded to my BBC Breakfast Tweet. I thought it was good. Perhaps it would have been more successful if I’d referred to the sexual act in layman’s terms. Either that, or said that the person out of shot looks like Father Ted. Other than posting childish tweets, I’ve been getting about. I had a chiropractor appointment this morning that was not a moment too late. My neck has been uncomfortable for weeks. I keep catching myself holding my head at a slightly jaunty angle and then rectifying it. I’ve also been suffering from my regular off-and-on condition, labyrint...

I switched on BBC Breakfast this morning, to watch a presenter drop two AA batteries on to the studio floor, to see if they bounced. I was delighted my TV Licence Fee was being put to good use. There was method to her madness. She wasn’t just filling time. It was meant to be a way of finding out if they had any charge left, though I still think putting them in a device and then seeing if it works is preferable. An empty battery bounces and a full one doesn’t: that was the crux of the item. I won’t bore you with the science; partly because I can’t remember it, and partly because it didn’t work. When she tried it, they both bounced identically, wasting five minutes of Charlie Stayt, Naga Munchetty and 6.8 million viewers’ lives in the process. Why didn’t she test it privately first, thus saving a lot of embarrassment? She even advised us not to try it ourselves, in case they leaked. So, if the theory worked, we weren’t meant to use it. ...