Richard Madeley - My Fake Diary

Tuesday, 29 July 2003

The other night was bloody awful. You know... really bloody awful. It was like that time Judy and I were reporting for Granada from that orphan's place in Romania.. only without those stupid, hideous kids, thank God.

Judy was being her usual self again - blaming me for everything. Basically, I was making mashed potatoes and I forgot to mash them. Simple enough mistake, perfectly honest - anyone could have done it really. Anyway, she flew right off the bloody wall. I had to hit her, just to shut her up. Nothing bad - just a quick fist in the face.

Anyway, the police came again. Had to spend another night in the cells. I felt a bit like a slim Terry Waite - much sexier of course. More like Terry Nutkins, I suppose.

When I got out I thought the press would be ravenous, so I walked all the way home with a towel over my head. The police had released a statement and everything, but nobody came up to me or anything.

No trace of it in the papers the next day, either. I think they must have run out of ink or something. Yes, that must be it.