I’m trying to remember what it was like to switch on TV and not see Russell Howard.

Don’t get me wrong. Please, don’t. I insist. I mean, I quite like Mr Howard’s work. He’s quite amusing in a real life Gareth from The Office type way but whether he likes it or not, he’s becoming something of a Jimmy Carr for the mid-to-late-noughties.

Where Jimmy fronted every List show Channel 4 could pull from its creative rectum — or every fucking List show, as I liked to call it — Russell has made the Panel Show his speciality.

Never Mind The Buzzcocks, Mock The Week, Would I Lie To You, Have I Got News For You; you name it, he’s on it. In fact, you don’t need to name it. I’ve done that for you.

It makes me wonder if Russell’s life is just one big Panel Show. I mean, this photo might look like a screenshot from Mock The Week, but it is in fact Russell’s kitchen. His wife has just asked him if he wants Cornflakes or Porridge for breakfast and he’s about to give five minutes worth of improvised comedy answers before settling for the flakes, gathering the points and a brief but polite round of applause from his gathered family members. Or “team”.

Waiting at the bus stop, he’s compelled to identify which of his co-passengers was the lead singer in Voice of the Beehive.

When someone hums the intro to a song as they wander round Tesco, he has to name it, or pass it over to the opposing team.

Phil Jupitus is now never any more than 50 yards away from Mr Howard.

So while I enjoy his gentle Bristol ways, If he ends up on Dragon’s Den, presenting Top Gear or, God forbid, following Jeremy Fucking Spake around on Airport, I may have to complain. Plus, Dave will have to change its name.

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