Sketch duo Moon did a bit in Edinburgh last year deconstructing the dark capitalism of the board game Monopoly that made me roll with laughter. They’re two of my closest friends, and they’re both even more odd in person than the characters they portray on stage. Both are becoming priests in this post-live-comedy world.
I have, unfortunately, rotted my brain with enough screen time that I am now no longer capable of reading books. I can recommend some very good tweets, though.
The Greasy Strangler. It’s quite grotesque and horrible and I’d probably wait till Covid has passed until watching it.
My mum. Very kind, nervous woman. She got a dog recently and she’s taken to dousing the poor mutt in anti-bacterial gel after she takes him for walks.
Angry Romford heckler: “What’s that written on your hand?!” Me: “It’s my set, I wrote my jokes on my hand in case I forgot.” Angry Romford heckler: “It would have been a short set if you’d written it on your …”
For a while I wore a Nike windbreaker to school that had the Jamaican flag on the back. It was the same time I had a poster on my wall of a Jamaican man walking through a cannabis plantation with the words “WEEDIN ME GARDEN” on it. Quite strange for a 13-year-old in Hertfordshire.
In Amsterdam, me and my girlfriend got mind-bendingly stoned before flying home and had to force-feed ourselves vegetable curry in the airport to stop us freaking out.
Perhaps not a hairstyle but I was a massive Eminem fan, so for a whole summer I copied him by wearing a bandana on my head. A friend’s parents assumed I’d lost my hair and was critically unwell.
A sex toy factory sent me a sex doll to say thanks for featuring them on my podcast. I’ve caught my six-month-old daughter looking hungrily at the doll’s large rubber breasts.
Jacob Hawley’s podcast On Love is available now on BBC Sounds