Well I'm glad that's over. Now all I've got to do is take the make-up off and spend the next four hours queing on the M25. I bet bloody Noel gets it. I don't think the rush job they did on my hair down on Kings Street helped much, either. Looked like I was wearing a balaclava helmet knitted out of my own hair. Still, the oldies they'd bussed in for an audience seemed to enjoy my new catchphrase.
You can't get rid of me that easily!