STEPHEN FRY

The whole silly stick…

I suppose the keenest disappointment I feel about the past week and the almost incredible weirdnesses it has brought in its train is the idea that there are people out there who actually swallow the notion that I am so stupid as to believe that women don’t enjoy sex. That I not only believe it but that I am dense, dotty and suicidally deluded enough to make a public declaration of such a crazed belief.

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Passions

Blogging down one’s thoughts can sometimes end in bogging them down. Political events, ideological disagreements, rants, apologies, defensive screeds and coverage of techno launches, political scandals and general media excitements have often been the meat, drink, potatoes, peanuts and popcorn of my blogging space, which is fine and well and high and dandy and adorable in its own way (one hopes) but it leaves little time for dilating on the subjects which really move and enliven me. So here is the first of a series of blogulosities in which I try and share a personal delight.

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Oh my lordy lordy LORD. I have known these two weeks were coming, but it’s still a shock that they’re here already. As you might know from my #shamelesswhoring on Twitter, I have a book out this week. Tonight I am at the Royal Festival Hall, the evening being relayed live to 60 cinemas across the country. I have been splayed over newspapers and the Radio Times in various undignified poses and to top it all the Dave Channel are, bless them, having a Stephen Fry Week. Over the coming fortnight I am doing evenings in Norwich, Cambridge and Oxford. There are three live performances at the Royal Albert Hall and further events at Cheltenham and Bath to come. Throw in on top of this the usual swathe of One Show, breakfast TV interviews and suchlike and you have a savage lubeless media assault that may well bring tears to the eyes.

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