Three minutes after 10 is the time. What is the relationship between your radio listening and the weather?

I honestly don't know. I can't remember. It's so rarely this hot. Everyone's going 33 degrees.

People say it's hot and then the Maldives. Is that why the Maldives is trending? Or is there

another reason why the Maldives is trending? It's hotter than the Maldives. Needless to say,

I packed my summer wardrobe for a trip to Dublin later today, only to

check the weather forecast on the way into, when I say my summer wardrobe, I bought two new

shirts in Marks and Spencers yesterday. I've reached the stage in my life where Marks and

Spencers is often the answer to my Sartorial quests. I never thought that day would dawn. I remember

the first time Mrs. O'Brien bought me some clothes from Marks Spencers, and I thought either, well, I thought one of us might be contemplating divorce. I just wasn't sure which one. But yesterday, I walked up and down Regent Street in London's fashionable West End. I saw one shirt I quite liked in the window of an Italian outfiter and I went in and tried it on

and then I realized there was no prices on it and I think there's an old adage isn't there that

if you have to ask how much something costs you can't afford it how much do you think they

were asking for one linen shirt on quite nice linen shirt in an Italian shop you said you want to have a

guess how much gone 190 pounds for one shirt for one linen shirt and that won't even be the most expensive one in that, probably in that shop, let alone in London. And I just balked at it. I just thought, look, if I was going to a wedding, i.e. my own, then I might contemplate dropping that sort of cash on a shirt. But my goodness me, just for a, for a, for, for just for what I presumed was going to be an extremely hot weekend in Dorky by the sea, just outside Dublin. I thought, I know. So where do you go, answer Marks and Spencer? Do you think they'd sponsor me? Do you think I could get a sponsor? I promise, I'm such a scruffy get. Who on earth would want to be associated with my sartorial choices?

I put, um, what are they called these sort of shirts? Polo shirt. I put a polo shirt on this morning and then I caught myself in the reflection at the tube station and it's got a flipping stain on it. And that's after it's been washed. So I must have spilt coffee on it or something like that last time I wore it. So I ended up in Marks and Spencers and bought a couple of rather nice shirts that fit and rather winningly they don't have any insignia on them. The thing I've got on now, which I got in TK. Max before anyone accuses me of elitism, Metropolitan Liberal Elitism has got one of those little polo players on it, which is associated with a well-known American brand. I don't mind that because it's quite subtle. And when I was a kid, it was still quite cool. But I tried to find clothes that don't have insignia on them. Even little insignia. And it's almost impossible to do. Marks and Spencer's usually quite reliable in that field. Although I've noticed now, they've started sticking a big St. Michael across some of their brands.

Anyway, what was I talking about that for?

Oh yes.

I think we're already establishing the relationship between heat and the radio, aren't we?

This is even more gibbery jabbary than usual on the programme.

So I packed my summer wardrobe, like my two new shirts,

and then check the weather forecast for Dublin on the way into work today

with my summer wardrobe nestling between my knees in my carry-on luggage.

It's going to be absolutely weeing it down when I get there and nine degrees on Saturday and Sunday.

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