The crowd claps uncertainly, and suddenly 'newish' Colin is there, on the stage, waving madly at the crowd and shouting 'Hello!' He blinks for a moment as the applause stops, and then says, 'I'm not racist ... I love the hundred metres!'

Somewhere, someone coughs. Others wait patiently for the punchline. Colin mutters something about the Beijing Olympics then looks at his watch. He only has four minutes and fifty seconds to go.

He tries to banter but there are no takers, so he reaches for the EJ and I freeze as he begins to read it out.

'If things are going badly,' he reads, 'simply ask someone in the front row what they do for a living, and when they reply, say something funny about that.'

He picks a man, who says he's unemployed. Colin just stares.

As we walk home in moonlit silence a little later on, Colin stops on a corner and cheers up a little.

'I suppose, on reflection,' he says, 'sometimes it is the audience's fault.'

THE HOLIDAY

The sun peeks through the curtains like a nosy neighbour wondering why I'm not up yet. I cover my eyes with my arm and then my arm with my pillow, but it is no good. I am awake. There is no going back.

I yawn, and groan as I see that the clock says '08.19', but then I remember: I am on holiday! Summer holiday! The holiday I've been telling myself I both need and deserve for so long now! The holiday that I knew would allow me to leave dank and drizzly London behind and get away from it all - far, far away from it all. Far away from the traffic, and the chip shops, and the faceless, everything-the-sameness of modern-day life.

I look over at my wife. She's still asleep, but I want to wake her, and say, 'This is it! We're on holiday! Prepare yourself for culture and fun! Let us throw away the familiar and launch ourselves into a universe of new experiences!' But then I realise that is quite a lot to say to someone at 08.19 in the morning, so I get up and just look out of the window instead.

And there it is. The city, in all its vast, unfamiliar, foreign beauty. Well, some of the city. The bits of the city I can see from outside the window of the Marriott.

So this is it, I think, shaking my head, and with wonder in my eyes. The Marriott car park. And there! There in the distance! A Wagamama!

Already, I find myself excitedly planning my day. We could go for a walk through the car park. And then maybe go to Wagamama.

But no. That might be too much too soon. My wife needs to relax. Needs to acclimatise. I have visited this country once before, many years ago. I am prepared for it. But she will need time.