Ivo Graham

Hello there, Amy, Ed, James, Benito, and everyone else at Off Menu PLC.

Sorry to miss your call.

I was at Pilates.

But I'm delighted to say that Amy's memory is not a false one.

In fact, my skip-sprinkled sag paneer was the crowning glory on what I would truly count as one of the lower-end top 50 greatest days of my life.

It was the Edinburgh Fringe 2022, and the sun was shining, and Covid was over, sort of, and I was feeling a foolish optimism about my prospects.

That day, I had gone with my friends Liam and Hannah to the Summer Hall to watch a lunchtime show of Hayley McGee's Ages of Feeling, a theatre piece so moving I've spent most of the last three years ripping it off, before the three of us day-tripped to Portobello to swim in the sea and contaminate a Turkish bath.

With our hearts full and our paws cleansed, we returned to the Pleasants, where I performed my well-written, if abysmally titled stand-up show, My Future, My Clutter, which had a banana and a yoghurt on the poster specifically to appeal to fans of this podcast, and which I'm contractually obliged to say is still available to view on YouTube.

I could have gone straight home happy after such a day, but what a thrill instead to receive a late call-up to Kismot Curry House to meet Amy Matthews and her delicately sozzled entourage.

Kismot is the home of the iconic Iron Brunner, but I was not yet in my orange phase and had other fusions on my mind.

Some of the finest pub podcasters and award sharers in the game watched with a mix of delight and impatience as I produced a bag of skips left over from my portobello picnic and crushed them over my paneer, shouting, Shall I be mother?

which broadly confused people because the Tim Key episode hadn't come out yet.

It was a taste sensation for the ages and stands as a reminder to always take the path less travelled where possible.

Poppadoms or bread, why not prawn instead?