Acceptance.

Part 6 in my ‘not suitable for Jeopardy!’ series.

The day I wrote about farts got me my second-highest pageviewing figures ever. Well done, people. Well done.

A short one today, since I’m packing and hate all my clothes and how they fit. Sometimes I do behave like a stereotypical girl.

Most of the stories I have shared here have been told to at least one person before. I don’t think I have with this one

Because it’s a dream thing, though, it’s a bit boring, but I have a recurring dream (over the last, like, 9 years at least) where I was on a really budget pilot version of a quiz show that was like ‘QI’-meets-‘Reach-for-the-Top’ with a mix of celebrities and ‘normal’ people. Sometimes I dream about filming the pilot, in, like, the basement of a high school with a small audience, but most of the time, I’m dealing with the aftermath, when the BBC disavows that the show ever happened, was ever aired, and that I am ostracized and/or forgotten (depending on the dream) by the quizzing community, and much of the British comedy community, including my beloved Stephen Fry for participating and doing so poorly.

Sometimes, the dream is so intense that it takes me a long time after waking to figure out that the events didn’t actually happen. I’m utterly convinced until I’m drinking my first coffee of the day that I was on a bastardised ‘QI’.

Delusions of grandeur coupled with intense insecurity? Me to a tee! I still dream in conscious life of getting on ‘QI’. Or working for them. Anyone who has an in, please get in touch so that I can grovel to the right people.

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