I Know, I Need To Stop Talking... so I made a podcast

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In which I share some of my most mortifying moments over the years; I get to live out an all time dream; I have an Irritating Week, and you are all bloody brilliant; I am thoroughly wound up by "fidgets"; weeing in a cup proves to be extremely difficult; Jamie performs a character assassination; I learn that pride very much comes before a fall; I confirm all the reasons that you should not take your children bra shopping; and I prove that I am an utter liability who clearly should not be allowed to Adult unaccompanied.

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In which I record a podcast in the midst of abject chaos; I debate a creative addition to my Christmas cake; Fanny Craddock scares me; I introduce you all to Barry; there's perhaps the most original hair-care tip you'll hear this year; and I share with you all some glimpses into the madness that is a typical day in our life, including the worst ever late night gift, why you never want to be responsible for waking Beth up, Jamie's sock-related challenges, and my outstanding prowess in pursuit of the title of World's Most Embarrassing Parent.

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In which we discuss the soul destroying adulting task that is "life admin"; I confess to my secret fetish; my cats are dicks, again; I tell you all about my Exciting Day Out and tick off a major item on my bucket list; yet another one of my household appliances is an utter cock; I share my self-composed joke that made Jamie weep tears of laughter; we explore all of the reasons why you really can't pour from an empty cup (or any cup at all: much better to use a jug instead); and I share an IKINTST absolute classic.

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In which my vagina is indeed cold and frosted (it's ****ing FREEZING!); we have a heated debate about the correct point in the year to put up Christmas decorations; I share with you my theatrical recommendation of the year; my mum performs an early Christmas miracle for me; Jamie lusts after a Bushtucker Trial; Beth picks up a footballing injury; and Jamie comes up with the world's weirdest Dragons' Den pitch.

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In which I get poorly sick; we are lucky enough to go away on holiday; Jamie reaches new levels of ineptness; I lobby for crazy golf to become an Olympic sport; there's a reason I've never become a book publicist; my children's lack of fussy eating backfires on me; we should all try to be more kind; and my cats are, as usual, utter dicks.