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Last night I dreamt a trailer for The One Show. Either my subconscious has reached its peak of dullness or the BBC are pumping adverts into my head.

The commercial ran like a premonition (or a prelude to a 30-minute one). I didn’t visualise a TV. It was as if someone had jammed a SCART lead through my cerebral cortex. I hope no-one does that. It would wreak havoc with the pins.

I can’t remember what they were trailing. I’m not sure who was their special guest. All I can see is Chris Evans and Alex Jones sitting on the sofa, talking to my soul. Thank God it wasn’t Matt Baker’s shift. That would be nightmarish.

The dream must have been spurred on by the fact I saw some of yesterday’s show. They were interviewing Jeremy Paxman. The tension in the studio was palpable. Even his friendliest answers came across like accusations. They should've threatened to overrule him twelve times and see how he likes it.

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