Red Blog Day.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Writing a blog for 24 hours is one thing but why the fuck am I doing it for charity? I hate charity. I'm poor but not quite poor enough to be given a free school or have Sting come round to look sad at me. I'm ill but not ill enough to be given a highly trained dog to do lots of things for me or have someone pop round every day to make my dinner and turn Pointless on. I have to turn Pointless on myself. Those jammy fuckers who are properly poor and dying don't know how lucky they are. Not only do they get free stuff but they also get to avoid ever having to give to charity. You can't guilt the poor and the ill into anything. I know. I've tried. You know in books when a weary traveller comes across a poverty stricken family who are penniless and are down to their last box of imaginary fish fingers yet their hearts are so full of kindness that they give their last "breast of moth" to him? Well, that doesn't happen in real life. You even so much as look at stuff belonging to the poor or the sick and they will boot-fuck your kneecaps into your skull. And they can do that easily because stupid Comic Relief have given them money and food and medicine and a gym membership so they'll be way fitter than you. The meek won't inherit the earth, we'll just phone up and donate it to them.

Harsh? Well, I'm in a bad mood. I thought the idea of writing a 24 hour blog would be fun but look: it's only 8.30pm. I have 23 hours to go and I already feel completely weirded out. It's like blogging in front of thousands of ghosts. Well, 14 ghosts. Fuck you, how many ghosts do you need before you're weirded out? Also, I never really thought I'd ever do anything for Comic Relief. It's always been the evil face of good.

We all know comedians are the most selfish half-humans on the planet and Comic Relief brings out the very worst in them. All back slapping and self publicity while pretending to give a shit. It would be a nightmare for some careers if poverty was made history. And if that's not enough to make you want to donate more then I don't know what will. Yes, you'll be throwing money to the mighty and terrifying poor but you could just be £5 or £10 away from making sure there's no more Celebrity Juice or David Walliams. Imagine there's no Walliams. It's easy if you try. I'm not a fan of charity but if you have to join then to beat them then so be it. Come on, people. Let's make comedy history.

And lots of you have been kind already? Want to know who....?

Well, apparently Oscar Wilde has donated £1. Look for yourself at the JustGiving page. Oscar Wilde has given £1 to Red Blog Day and he has left the comment "I have nothing to declare but this £1 note. Spend it wisely to help underprivileged young men".

And that's what I fucking hate about Comic Relief right there. Everyone has to get in on the joke. FUCK OFF, OSCAR WILDE. I'm glad he's in France and dead because he's helping to ruin what should be a sombre and respectful piece of charity work. Sitting in a bath of beans, naming your baby Twat or letting Lesley Joseph basically felate us all in a thing she calls a dance to get her back on telly. All those things ruin charity. Charity should be tragic and hopeless.

Hence, Red Blog Day.

I mean, I'm not expecting HUGE amounts of money (I FUCKING AM) and some people giving a little collectively means a lot. Neil Hinnen, Andy McH, Annie Brown, Deborah Frances White, Tracy Mearns, Helen & Adam, Chris Limb, Neal Peters, Katie Bancroft, Marisa Ferguson, Sean Brightman, Ros Bell, Michelle Flower, Clara Harding, Tim Hudson, Peter Higgins, Wet Sarah, Martin White, Sarah X, Pete Dillon-Trenchard, Mark Cole, Gareth Edwards, Susan Schloetter, Richard Herring, Nicki JC and David Whittam all gave noble amounts of money and they did it for the right reasons. BUT THAT'S WRONG TOO. If it's Comic Relief and you really want to laugh then be fucking funny. Those generous people are just thoughtless cunts to me. Not like Harry Chalmers, Cassie Cagwin, Connor Wallace, Daniel Meier and Zara Andrewes who all said a massive FUCK YOU to giving Gift Aid. When you donate money to charity "Gift Aid" comes along and means that your chosen charity doesn't have to pay any tax on the money it's been given but these brilliant and hilarious "kind" people realised that ticking a box (AND THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO DO) is nowhere near as funny as telling a charity that it's all well and good helping the poor but let's give the lovely government dome too. I'm sorry but NOT giving money to charity is really funny and Comic Relief should applaud those people. And we should all stand and salute Christian Talbot who left his name on the JustGiving page and a message on the JustGiving page and no money whatsoever. He's the king of comedy charities for me. "We need help" but Christian takes one look at Graham Norton wearing a red nose and says "There's no way I can help you".

But there's more to feeling good than charity. How about we use this opportunity to bring people together. Two people to be precise. I know the perfect two. You up for it?

I like the idea that this blog might have a plot. Especially as I already feel that I'm losing it. When I first started blogging a story accidentally came out of it. It was about me and a man named Toilet. I knew Toilet quite well but, all of a sudden, he stopped speaking to me and my very fragile feelings got hurt. All I wanted was Toilet to like me. I mean, not so much that I'd stop calling him Toilet but I definitely wanted us to be friendly again. I just had no idea why he was ignoring me. Then, out of nowhere, I found out that he had been reading my blog and he liked it. I was so happy. He hadn't been ignoring me at all. It was a beautiful story with a happy ending.

I want that again.

Basically, if WE ALL work together in a happy and subtle way, without bullying or pushing these two people (no forcing) too hard...if we just put the idea out there...if we just introduce these two people...then I believe that, comedy performer and writer from The Trap, Jeremy Limb and formula one racing superstar Jenson Button could be friends. Do you? @JensonButton @JeremyLimb

I made a promise at the beginning of the webcast version of this blog that when we got to £815 I'd watch an episode of Mrs. Brown's Boys.

I hope you kind people are happy now.

I'm not. Watching Mrs. Brown's Boys fills me with dread. I've only ever seen two episodes and I felt such boiling hatred it made me sick. Not for the programme itself but hatred, uncontrollable hatred, for the potato famine. If only that had wiped all us Irish out then no one would ever have to sit through that horrible pile of shit ever. You English have been far too lenient to us over the years. You had the chance to get rid of us and you fucking blew it. But the kind people of Red Blog Day paid their blood money and I had to do what I shamefully agreed to. I watched an episode of Mrs. Brown's Boys.

Instantly that discomfort I feel even when Mrs. Brown's Boys is mentioned just vanished. You see, I'd never seen the first episode and it's one of those programmes that is so complex, so tight that if you're not there at the beginning then you'll never get it. Well, now I get it. It's brilliant. I totally see now that Mrs. Brown is all of us and none of us and all of none of us or something. She is our universal matriarch and like our own mother she is the comfort blanket we need at times of distress, the rock we depend on when our stability wavers and she has a penis. I recognise all the characters so clearly now. The son who is a boring man who laughs at his mum's swearing, the daughter who is a boring woman who laughs at all her mum's swearing and the grandfather who never laughs because he's constantly being called a cunt while the son and daughter boringly laugh. It's a properly brilliant TV show and definitely better than Doctor Who or Pointless. To be really honest, I can't remember when I laughed that much.

There. I've written than and it's there forever. Fucking give me more Comic Relief money. Also...don't lose heart on @JensonButton and @JeremyLimb. These friendships need to bloom and you can't rush them. Just because few people have got involved so far and we've had no response doesn't mean that this won't happen. Do you believe in Jenemy? I do. It'll happen...

Let's see who's donated since last time...

My heartfelt thanks to Alec who has matched the Comic Relief hilarity of Christian Talbot by putting a message on the JustGiving page and donating nothing. Pictures paint a thousand words, Alec, but a bored shrug screams so much more. Especially in the faces of the needy. Excellent! Also Grizelda has made me giggle a lot with her chucklesome utter apathy of Gift Aid. I'm proud of you both. Creepy crawly bumlicks for charity so far also include Niki Di Palma, Nogbad the Bad, Russell Hughes, Mathew Smith, Isabelle, Katherine Hickton, Dan Morgan, Ruth Gavin, Ewan Duncan, Nicola Woolhouse, Derek Barnes, Rob Glen and Dan Mersh who have donated and boringly made no attempt at comedy by ticking the Gift Aid box. What's funny about that, cunts?

The great thing is that I haven't gone mad yet. Well, why would I? We're only three and a half hours into Red Kill Day and that's not much at all. Did I say we? I meant I'm only three and a half hours into Red Blood Day and I'm sure the madness won't come for quite a while yet. In fact, I know I'm not going mad because I'm clearly very comfortable at talking to no one in an empty room. The webcast seems to have a good few viewers and therefore surely I'm never alone even though I'm completely by myself. Surely occasionally turning to talk to a laptop proves that I'm comfortable with myself and am not going mad. The night really has fallen like a black blanket that mothers as much as it smothers and I occasionally laugh at the laptop's replies to my various Comic Relief based statements. A lot of people said it would be tough once it got to 3 or 4am and that might be the case but look at how fine it is now. The comfort of the fan of my computer, the hum of the fridge, the stare of the sky outside. It's all going really well.

Being alone is a sure sign of independence. Someone that needs no one but themselves has to be the strongest person there is. I said so to Raylond half an hour ago and not only did he agree but he also insisted I pour myself another glass of wine. Raylond is the laptop's name and he's such a good guy. He's so supportive of what I'm doing and has been telling me how well our few hours of charity have been going. After he kissed me he told me how proud he was of all the people who have given so much the Red Blog Day appeal.

And how ashamed he was of those that gave so little. So ashamed. Ashamed like the rust of a blade.

It's not even that late and yet it's so quiet. Is it so quiet because I suspect so many people I know are far away from me making noise? HA HA HA HA HA! That's a funny joke. Is it? I'm not sure any more. All I know is that it's quiet. If I didn't have Raylond for company I's probably go nuts. Clearly during this blof session I need stuff to do. It just can't be reading tweets and writing a blog. Reading tweets and writing a blog makes Jack a dull boy.

It is quiet. And dark.

You know what proper nuts is? That I was actually thinking of doing this 24 hour blog without alcohol. I really wanted to first of all do it without any food or liquid. You know, bonding. That sort of thing. Then I was warned that I may get ill so I decided to be slightly more sensible. I decided to go without food or water but just survive on wine. This basically got me shouted at. I can understand that. Man cannot live by booze alone. Tell that to George Best! LOL!!

Just checked Wikipedia. Feel a bit of a dick now. Anyway, I decided that I'd start drinking about 2am. That's 6 hours into Red Blog Day. That's totally fine.

It isn't.

What was I thinking? You could never do this without booze. It's one thing to do it but another to be aware of it. I really thought I was going to go for hours and hours living on only the fuel of raising funds for Comic Relief and doing good. That's madness and now I see all inspiring people as they really are. Yes, you've run a marathon. Ever done it sober? No fucking way. I mean, everyone wants the glory of completing a worthy and impressive event but do they actually want to do it? Of course not, so what's the remedy? Time travel exists, people, and it's here in every bottle of booze. Body becomes numb, mind goes on holiday. All of a sudden you've climbed Everest or become Prime Minister. Tonight I almost put down the bottle. Tonight I almost made a stupid decision. Tonight I almost didn't become Prime Minister.

Are there positives to being a hero? No. No, there aren't. Not if you're the kind of hero I am anyway. You know, that kind of hero that basically does sod all for anyone? That's the kind of hero I am. How else are other people going to learn to fend for themselves if saints like me don't turn our backs on them? What cruelty a man displays when he gives a crutch instead of total independence. Giving medicine must be the hardest part of a doctor's job. A short term answer to a long term problem. I'm so glad I'm not a doctor and so are you.

But there has been a positive so far. I've been given a surprise. It's 1.30am and something I didn't expect turned up in my iTunes. A really good new David Bowie album. I mean I bought the new David Bowie album but I always assumed him a kind man who would never challenge our preconceptions of the elderly but it turns out that hanging out with Ricky Gervais has had an incredible influence on him. Clearly, watching advance copies of Derek has made David rethink his own relevance and that of his generation. You see, David is just like us. We're all thin white chameleon cigarette Berlin gender-free space-cats and, as a result, we're all aware we're not getting any younger. Thankfully, Saint Ricky of the Boring Piano did spake upon this lost and ancient minstrel and through the words of this all-knowing noise of a man, David Bowie gathered courage to go back and revisit what he was once capable of. You know, like anyone.

It is pretty good though. If only we knew @RickyGervais's Twitter name I'm sure we'd all thank him personally for making Derek and helping David out of his cot and back to brilliance. That said, I bet some of us would do it sarcastically. Ahem...

We deserve a good Bowie album after all we've done. And remember, it's pronounced Bowie not Bowie. I mean, we've been so great tonight so far. We're getting so closer to our goal of making comedy history. Thanks to Dave Warburton, Neil Hillen (AGAIN!!), Rua Ward, Shell, Simon Best, Jeremy Limb, Martin Thompson, Frode Sorensen and Dave Bourn for being Comic Relief's spineless robot monkeys. I give my horn to Frazer Robb, James Walker and Humanhairball who have once again put comedy before help. Ticking the Gift Aid box might be well and good and could ultimately save lives but I know what's funny, sunshine. And that's being a cunt. Well done, guys.

But are these do-gooders that actually want to go through the agony of dragging their cursor across to the "Tick for Gift Aid" box the worst people that Comic Relief attract? Not by a long shot. How about these cunts: Anonymous.

"Oh, I'm not in it for the recognition, I simply want to give".

You make me sick. And there's loads of them. All jumping up and down and begging for no attention. Of course they don't need recognition. Just by making the rest of us feel like total shits, they quietly rise to the top. Stealth givers. Silent shamers. I mean are they reserved givers or deafening loud saints? Either way, I think it's safe to say that they're right wallies.

It is quiet though. It's lonely doing charity. Can I keep the money?

There are several things that won't occur to you when writing a 24 hour blog in front of a webcam. One of them is posture. My back really hurts. So do my shoulders. I've been sitting on a shitty wooden chair for over 6 hours and the pain now is way too much. I never would have thought about that but that's only because I don't exercise. When you look after yourself, you know that sitting pretty much still on a crap chair is bad for you. When you've made the decision at an early age to do fuck all as much as possible, it comes as a shock at how hard REALLY doing fuck all is. It's practically impossible and as painful as constant exercise. It's so easy to look at lazy people and dismiss them as pathetic but look at what they put themselves through. Doing nothing all the time kills. What does exercise do? It makes coping easy. I think THAT is pathetic. "No pain, no gain"? What about the lazy mantra. "Pain, no gain". It's a constant stationary struggle being lazy. Something that people who just give in to health take for granted.

There's also the toilet. I didn't think I'd go to the toilet quite as much as I have done during the last...now 7 hours. And I'm worried that I pee loudly. You can't get watched on a webcam and confidently pee when you know its raucous. I thought I always peed like a dog whistle. Turns out my tinkle can really bark. Discomfort and loud urine to one side, there's still trouble to be found while blogging in front of a camera for an entire day.

What about when I get turned on?

I mean, men think about sex 348 times every nano second, if stand up comedy is to believed, so surely at some point there will be some people watching me when I'm aroused. I mean, I won't show it off or anything. I'm just saying that it'll happen. You might be watching and thinking that this is the most bizarre/mesmerising thing I've ever seen. "It's just a man sitting alone unhappily typing on his laptop". Maybe. But it's just as likely to be a man sitting alone unhappily typing on his laptop while thinking of St John's Ambulance women taking his pulse while a lollypop lady sucks on a crazy straw.

Oh, sure. I'm going mad. But what with? Lack of sleep or lack of AW, YEAH!

I've just realised that this is the opposite of fun. In every way, it's the opposite. You know when you're tired and you want to sleep but your friends are going out and then you worry that you're missing out? THIS ISN'T THAT! It's 3.30am and you're all asleep and I'm worried that I'm missing out. You're probably having the best time ever just lying on a comfy bed that supports your back and pillows that cradle your head while you dream of amazing adventures. I'm awake in Lewisham. That can't possibly compare to just lying there comatose. You seem so exotic to me right now. You could be lying there with one leg out of the duvet, drool running down your face and suffocating yourself by snoring and I'd be so jealous. I AM jealous. You're probably dreaming. I like dreaming. You can't feel how bad your back hurts in a dream. My back is in a lot of pain. Stupid reality.

My favourite dream was the time I dreamt that I worked in an office. Hang on, it gets better. Wherever it was I worked there was a product available on the market that was known by everybody, it was a worldwide brand like Coca-Cola. It was called 3 Frogs In a Can and it came in a thin tube like Red Bull. So, I'm working at my desk one day, as usual, when one of my work colleagues asks if I'd like anything from the canteen. "Yeah", I said. "Can you get me a 3 Frogs In a Can, please?" and off he went to get my treat. He came back, put the can on my desk and when I opened it....3 very tiny frogs jumped out. And I felt so refereshed. "Thanks", I said. "I needed that".

It's 3.45. Let's hope it hasn't all got to me telling you what happened in my dream once.

It's not 3.45 anymore. It's 4.05. That might not seem like that much of a difference but it's actually huge. It's now not late or early. It's nothing. It's not a big deal staying up this late or getting up this early. This is what we charity workers call "Unimpressive".

Sure, pretty much everyone is still asleep but there's still a few that are maybe half an hour away from turning in. Just finishing that last beer while trying to complete level 321 of Wizard Sex Cop Whores In A Big Car. And once they go to bed the others will wake up. Staying up until midnight impresses the early risers and being awake until noon the next day means that the drinking game playing losers think you're God. Those are times you NEED when you're staying awake for 24 hours. 4.05 just thinks you're a dick.

The one's that normally stay up that late won't find your yawning and crying cool. And the early rises arent impressed because 4.05 is THEIR time. It's nothing to do with you. What the fuck are you even thinking being in 4.05? Get out of 4.05. Look at you. You're clearly a 10.20 (then press snooze) twat.

Plus none of these people find 4.05 dark or quiet or lonely. What the hell are you doing at 4.05? You fucking tourist.

To be fair 6.05 isn't much better. I only know this because 4.05 was so bad I decided to watch Avengers Assemble. Anything to feel a little less alone.

It didn't work.

I mean, it might have.

I love Avengers. It's way too upsetting to think that I'm not one of the Avengers. I sort of realise I'm not but I've supported all the movies so much that it's a massive kick in the dick that I'm not. I'd be perfect for the Avengers. I'd know when to meet them (Noon) and where (Fopp) and what to say (Love you, Avengers). That said, that's what got me thrown out of the boy's brigade and the Justice League of America.

OK, I admit it. I fell asleep.

Look, you have to understand one thing about giving everything you have to just one thing: It's fucking boring. Everyone just disappears on you about 6am. I mean, where is their stamina? There I am doing everything I can for charity (in this case, putting on a slanket and sleeping. Really) and they all just fuck off, completely forgetting the poverty stricken people they've left behind. People like them make me sick. Or they would if I'd been awake. Anyway, me falling asleep was art. I was trying to reflect how the governments of the world react to those that depend on them. You know by closing their eyes and going back to bed. With a slanket. Hopefully the many viewers of the webcast understood exactly what I was trying to say and didn't just think I'd had too much wine and conked out. No way. It was so much deeper than that. Sort of.

Thanks to Johnny Candon for waking me up, by the way.

Things are back on track with Red Blog Day already. In fact, as I missed 90 minutes of Red Blog Day due to making a point about governments or whatever, I've decided to extend the day until 9.30 tonight. Unless I make another political statement and snuggle up for the evening. Anyway, much more interestingly I've made another statement on behalf of Comic Relief. Something that should make the people of the world start donating to the cause in their droves.

I was thinking, what could be the most horrible and inappropriate thing you could possibly do for Comic Relief. Well, I figured it out: make a huge roast dinner.

And that's what I'm doing right now. I've got my potatoes with thyme and apple on and I've baked a pie. My sprouts and gravy should be on pretty soon. And just in case you think the joke is all about pointing and laughing at famine (it is), just know this; I think I've burnt the pie. My house stinks of burnt pie. But hey, is that my fault? (Yes) Surely if Johnny had just let me sleep for the full 8 hours none of this would happen. BUT if you're woken up and shoved straight into a kitchen then of course you're holing to set fire to something.

Now, let's have a look at the kind people who've been donating....

It's hard to tell, as I've just woke up, but it looks like Rich Morgan, James Seabright, William, Andy Smart, Mark Bowden, David Lavery, Kendersrule, Neil Hillen (FOR THE THIRD TIME), Leighton Tweets, Lauren Kerr, Thomas French and Paul Litchfield all donated the tediously traditional way of thinking about who benefits most whereas fdp68 and Florence Ballard both decided that when it comes to Comic Relief comedy comes before charity as they've both REFUSED to tick the Gift Aid box. Apparently some people are using the excuse that because they live outside the UK they're exempt from asking for Gift Aid but come on, people. It's really funny. Just admit that the FUCK YOU GIFT AID joke is way more relevant than providing money for the needy and we can all have a good laugh. I'm proud of you guys.

I mean people have been so generous throughout this. It's been so lovely. Normal, ordinary, some might even say boring people have given their hard earned money to those less fortunate. But those selfless, caring people are just shadows of humans in comparison to those people who really care more than any caring person has ever cared out of their care-hole. Of course, I mean the caring comedian.

The best thing about doing this 24 hour blog (besides sleeping) has been seeing the truly generous side of the caring comedian. Comedians are just their for laughs. No, that's barely a part of what they do at all. Comedians are there to show that raising money is all well and good but when it comes to showing people how to donate, they're better than everybody. It has been nothing but a cockle warming treat seeing professional comedians pretend that they're not desperate to be seen as loving and giving despite all comedians having no heart whatsoever and barbed wire cum instead of blood. I mean it all started so well. Mick Watson, the transwelshian corporate indie star of self publishing, offered £100 from all his ill-gotten cider riches and clearly showed the entire world, and more importantly the comedy circuit, how to care properly. It was an incredible piece of selfless aggrandised publicity (yeah, that's how I see my blog) that few could match. Sure, Richard Herod, the former double-act partner of that repetitive, monotoned ageing student (take your pick), gave nearly £51 from his own online empire but that was laughable compared to Watson's over £49 greater donation. It looked like, once again, Mick was going to be the biggest and most talked about comedian around until one of the Dave Gormen came forward and matched him pound for pound. We're used to the Dave Gormen wowing us with back-breaking stunts and treks around the world instead of jokes but this time one of them put us all in our place with his generosity and need to not be outdone by that guy who did that reality cookery programme once. All I'm saying is, we can all learn a lot from these roly-poly TV funnymen: giving can be begging at the same time.

I'm tired, OK?

But are comedians the kindest people of all? Despite their selfless charity work, no. No, they're fucking not. In fact, when it comes to being kind, is anyone really selfless? When celebrities do Comic Relief it isn't just because they want to end famine (by the way, I just ate a huge roast. It was lovely. I did it in aid of Comic Relief. I am going to hell), I mean they get on telly. It's brilliant publicity. Is running a marathon for charity kind? I'm not sure. You have to really look after yourself, eat well, train lots. You'll be a better version of you at the end. You're getting something, a lot in fact, out of it so it's definitely not selfless. Lots of people ban goods from foreign countries because of the unethical treatment of workers. But those workers can thank you. Highly unlikely but it could happen. Once again, I think the only decent and selfless people are vegans. Look at us (not all of us. Some of us really do look like dicks), we wouldn't harm an animal no matter what and what do we get in return? Nothing. Smugness counts as nothing, by the way. We say no to meat, milk and shampoo and we have nothing to show for it. Even if we wanted to be thanked by the animals, we couldn't. Vegans are so utterly lovely and selfless that they've decided to support and defend beings who's only form of communication is to eat us.

And even then we'd be helping famine, in a way, so we'd be smugger than ever.

And there are plenty of the non-selfless, look-at-me style charity donators here at Red Blog Day. All jumping up and begging to be seen are Dotes, Leighton Tweets, Al Napp, Colonel Hitch, Mersey Mal, Morag McFarland,  Alex Watts, Margaret Cabourn-Smith and Colin Smith who all chose helping their fellow man over laughing by ticking the Gift Aid box. Luckily, Olly Farrell and Zara Andrewes both saw the funny side of TAKING money from charity by spitting on Gift Aid and all it stands for. Of course, the most dorable donation came from Jerk the lurcher. Somehow.

I'm not sure that daytime loneliness is any better than the silence of night time. At least at night I was happily drunk, now I'm miserably hungover. It feels horrible. In fact, I feel like I'm on an anaesthetic. I'm numb and spaced out. I can't really think and all I want is sleep. I can taste though. Sadly, all I can taste is every alcoholic drink I've had for the last two months and a rank meal I had in October. The great thing about waking up and immediately starting on making a roast dinner for breakfast is that I was able to take my hangover by surprise. It wasn't ready yet. I got through the pie making and the roast potatoes preparation while my hangover was still getting dressed for work. But it's arrived and it's apologised for being late. and it's one of those terrible bastards who, after apologising for being late, feels the need to make up for lost time. To work a bit harder at it's job. To really put the effort in. It finished throwing pain around my head over half an hour ago and has since worked through it's lunch break to make sure my body feels drained and full at the same time while wafting imaginary nauseous smells up my nose. I know I'm going to be sick. I know I'm going to be sick soon. But at least I'll be throwing up for charity.

The total so far is £1600.38. If we get it to £1700, I'll throw up.

You know there are real comedians doing real comedy for Comic Relief? I mean, this is better but doing comedy must be easier than this. Real comedians have chosen to do gigs or write comedy songs or appear in sketches with a newsreader for Comic Relief. I think I'm the only one who has chosen to imprison himself, to cut himself off from everything. 24 hours writing a blog? What the hell was I thinking? I knew it was a bit of a stupid idea but I had no idea how thick it was. This isn't a stupid idea, it's a massive mistake. It's Big Brother but not on Channel 4. On 5. And instead of a bunch of people in the house together, it's me alone. With the public voting parts of me out bit by bit. "Michael's health. You have 5 minutes to get ready. I'm coming to get you". "Hour 7 and Michael's sanity is in the shed shouting at itself".

Most of my organs have definitely been voted out. Why did I drink two bottles of wine last night? Who did I think I was impressing? Well, no one. I got pissed and forgot people were watching. I feel like a ghost that still has a skeleton in it. You must have a hangover cure. You must. Please don't say Mrs. Brown's Boys.

Right. I have to make my own hangover cure or else I won't make it to 9.30. Let's see what's in the cupboards besides dog biscuits and bleach. Unless that works.

I found some purple powder. It's called Dioralyte and it helps rehydration. All you do is add it to water. Erm...why is Dioralyte taking credit for something that the water is doing? The purple powder doesn't even turn the water purple. That's another disappointment. Still, at least it's blackcurrant flavoured. Oh, no it isn't. It's water flavoured. What a lying sachet of purple powdery deceit.

Thankfully, we've had more donations coming in. It's almost as if my pain, nausea and solitude is a form of fun to some people. Anyone who would enjoy another man's suffering is a horrible, sick cunt. And those horrible, sick cunts are Colin Smith, Amy Butterworth, Katie Bancroft (again), Peter Lloyd, Rob S, Beth Jackson, Richard Peel, Grammus and Polly Randall who have all given us Gift Aids.

Hang on. I think I've taken the wrong purple powder. It says on the packet that it's for the treatment of acute diarrhoea in infants. Why the fuck have I got that in my house? And why did I decide to read the packet afterwards?

Updates on the treatment of my infant diarrhoea as they happen.

Wow! Half an hour later and my diarrhoea has completely stopped. You see, Red Blog Day reached £1800 and I promised if that happened I'd watch another episode of Mrs. Brown's Boys and it cured me of any potential infant diarrhoea that I might have simply because calling that TV show shit is an insult to shit. My shit refuses to live in a world where Mrs. Brown's Boys is upstaging it with it's stench and lack of hygiene. I don't really even want to talk about that episode. In fact I never want to ever speak of that shitty programme ever again. No offence to my diarrhoea.

What was fun during that hellish half hour was talking to Nick Doody. He was watching me on the webcam and tweeting me. I replied by talking out loud, knowing he was watching. It's been great when that's happened during the last 18 hours and 41 minutes. People writing to me and keeping me sane. A man could properly go nuts doing this if he's not careful. The fact that I responded to all of Nick's tweets by speaking directly to his avatar doesn't bode well for the remaining 6 and three quarter hours I've got left. God, I'm lonely.

I have to say I'm very disappointed in the plot of this blog. It was supposed to be a simple one. Two guys meet and, despite their differences, they just click. I wanted us all to get on Twitter and make sure that Jenson Button and Jeremy Limb become friends. I want to see them say hello to each other. Exchange a joke. Maybe agree to meet up at Ascot during the next Formula One Grand National or at The Phoenix for the next Los Quattros Cvnts. Basically, I wanted Red Blog Day to be special for all of us because we'd all started something special for two people and because it's stupid.

But hardly anyone has mentioned it to Jenson Button or Jeremy Limb. This incredible bond may never happen unless we pull together and make it work. I want Jenson and Jeremy to be the new Alexander and Richard from Pointless. Have you seen it when either of them has to speak to contestant? Oh, they'll speak to them but it will be with that look you give the 1000th painting you see in a gallery. Nice but...whatever. Then they speak to each other and their faces just light up. It's like they haven't seen each other in years. So much joy with every exchange. There are only two people in the world that don't know that Alexander and Richard are in love and that's Alexander and Richard. I want the same for Jenson and Jeremy. I never want Alexander and Richard to know those two are in love. Come on, Red Blog Dayers. Let's make Jenemy happen. They've got a nickname. Shame to waste it.

Christ, I'm tired. I'd love to go to sleep now. In fact, I'd just like to lie down. That would be a disaster though because I'd be out like a light and Johnny Candon would have to ring me to wake me up again. I think was the most confusing part of falling asleep, waking up to Johnny.

Hey, look what I found while I was writing this blog...

YOUR TWOROSCOPE.

Hello, my name is Michael Legge and I have been on holiday with your future and groped your soul for a bit. Sit back, relax and shut your pigging mouth while I tell you what life has in store for you as I read Your Tworoscope...

ARIES: A family member brings news of a terrible car crash that you're currently in. Be aware of the number 7. It has B.O.

TAURUS: You're a wet sign and you're aligned with the planet Jedward. This week a stranger bearing gifts walks straight past you because you're a stranger and a well-known cow.

GEMINI: Romance blossoms at work when a man carry two envelopes accidentally tastes you. Your lucky colour is blue and you will die on Thursday at noon.

CANCER: Buy a wig?

LEO: A well-deserved promotion at work leads to you getting beaten into a coma by three little girls with a spanner. You don't mind cheese.

VIRGO: Not even with a barge pole, sweetheart.

LIBRA: You have a fiery temperament and also your knee is on fire. Ignore it and it will go away. A gentleman caller rings twice and leaves a romantic message. Sadly, he was using your phone.

SCORPIO: A close member of your family (your son or accountant perhaps?) tells you a startling fact about Bib, a man you've yet to meet. You try to count to 15 but get very bored around 8.

SAGITTARIUS & CAPRICORN: Fuck-nuggets.

AQUARIUS: Your parents leave you a framed photo of their will in their will. Golf doesn't seem to be your game as you appear to be very drowning.

PISCES: It's time to get a haircut, new clothes and look smart. You're going to court. Your unlucky word is "Guilty".

And that is Your Tworoscope for this Red Blog Day special. I hope I shall see you again soon...in the FUTURE!


And that's that now. Thanks to @gaijintendo for suggesting it. Cheers! 

We're getting very close to £2000 now. Thanks to Al Murray, Neil Hillen, Dave Cohen, David Carrington, The Ladywell Fields Conservation Society (very excited about that one), Lee Mcilwaine, Ali Murray, Lauren Wellburn, Jonathan Clayton, Michael Stanton, Peta & Harry Nightingale, Andy Wilson and Lizzie Roper who all gave money yet failed to make me laugh because they insisted on giving Gift Aid. Major respect goes to tight-as-fuck Danielle Ward, misterdv and Moose Allain who all put their names on the JustGiving page yet just gave FUCK ALL and that's definitely what they did, they didn't just keep the amount the gave a secret. They have told charity to go fuck itself and I find that funny. And surely that's the point of Comic Relief?

Or is keeping a man alone in a room the point of Comic Relief? I've forgotten now. It's been so long since I was anywhere other than Room. I like it here on Chair but sometimes Back hurts but I'm too scared to lie on Sofa in case I fall asleep again which will definitely happen. At least I like Room. All my favourite things are in Room. Chair, Sofa, Table, Laptop and Jerk. Sometimes Jerk acts like she wants to leave Room but there is nowhere but Room. I think I remember an outside but there can't be more than Room, can there?

I wonder if I'm joking about going mad or going mad. How do you know? Surely at some point it all gets blurred. Blurred. Blurred. That's a funny word.

WE'VE HIT THE TWO GRAND MARK!!!

I'm very pleased about that. Here are more people to thank... Rob Heeney, Neil Hillen (again) and Paul Lewis (aka Phat Paul) who all gave generously but all look like stupid, happy clappy cunts next to the mighty Chris Evans who gave the most money, told Gift Aid to fuck off (still the funniest think you can do to charity) and he originally posted his donation anonymously but then realised that he might get a love bite out of it from a lady if he put his name on it instead. HE is our £2000 hero. Well done, Chris, and best of luck with the love bite.

I feel bad that Jerk wants to leave Room but she had a huge walk and a run yesterday and she will be walked, run and fussed as much as possible tomorrow. She has loads of toys and she can play with anything she likes in Room. But except for Chair and Table and Sofa and Laptop, what have I got in Room? Just screaming. So loud you can barely hear it. I had to just have a moment to make it stop. I think it's been the most relaxing moment I've had in Room since about midnight. I put a slanket on (really), moved Chair near Webcam and put Fix You by Coldplay on. The whole thing. And I just sat there looking at the camera, staring and not thinking. When I don't think the silent screams stop. Coldplay just numbs everything and thinking becomes hard and even screams don't want any part of their music. I sat there. Staring. Not moving. In a slanket.

If you ever imprison yourself for a full day and hate all the silent noise everywhere at all times, I highly recommend it. Might stop me from going bananas.

It's 17.59...

I just had a break. I needed it. 45 minutes out from Red Blog Day to recharge my battery and stop going fucking mental. I don't like missing Pointless so even a day that's set aside to force Jenson Button and Jeremy Limb into being best friends and does a thing for famine or whatever is going to get in the way of my Pointless love. I can't miss an episode because I know if I do then THAT will be the episode where Alexander and Richard finally kiss. Richard will be revealing all the possible pointless answers to the losing contestants and Alexander will just not hold back anymore. Every day at 5.15 he has to remain reserved with the man that clearly puts fire in his heart and then...no more. He'll walk over to Richard and say "I know what's pointless". Richard will hold his gaze, tremble and say "Xander, we...we can't do..." and Alexander will put his hand on Richard's face and kiss him.

The whole studio will applaud because EVERYONE knew it was going to happen one day...everyone thought it SHOULD happen one day. Look at them talking to one another next time. Wills doesn't look at Kate like that. Burton never looked at Taylor like that. Look at them. They're both Gomez Addams thinking the other is Morticia. And one day we'll see it. It'll happen. They'll kiss and call each other cara mia and it will never ruin the show. Somehow they'll succeed where Moonlighting, Cheers and Sky at Night failed. And all because of a kiss. A kiss seen by millions.

Then they'll do the cleanest bumming you've ever seen. Spotless.

Richard Osman tweeted about Red Blog Day. That's been my favourite part so far. Not the funniest part, that will take some beating. Falling asleep in front of a webcam is an odd way of raising money for charity but it's also an odd thing for people to watch. But people did watch it and they donated. I'm going to sleep for a day next year.

Pointless and Doctor Who are pretty much my favourite things. If one of the Doctors tweeted about Red Blog Day that would be perfect. I say that because I'm starting to worry about the plot. Maybe Jenson and Jeremy just aren't destined to be. I mean, I find that difficult to believe but then I've been away for days, completely alone and I'm wearing a slanket so my opinion should be taken with a pinch of shut the fuck up.

Let's not give up yet though, comrades. If it's meant to happen then we'll see Jenemy right in front of us before 9.30 tonight. We have less than three hours. I believe.

Weirdly I'm starting to feel saner than I was earlier. But maybe that's how all lunatics feel. That before they went mad was awful, it wasn't them, and now they're their trueselves; talking to a laptop and wearing a slanket and never leaving Room. I do feel happy though. Less than 3 hours to go and we have over £2,100. Brilliant. Thanks to Magnus & Samantha Wadsack (I know. There's nothing about Magnus Wadsack that isn't majestic), Jim Bob and Sarah Huggins for their kindness that was immediately made to look twee when Mick B and Abi who found Gift Aid just a little too sickening. Here are the funnies of Red Blog Day in order: 1) Me falling asleep. 2) People not ticking Gift Aid no matter what the reason is. It's made me giggle for almost 24 hours.

But so has the cup next to me and my pen. Just be alone for ages and put sleep aside and you too can find hilarity in everything you see. I'm a lucky guy.

I wonder if I'll miss Room after 9.30. It won't be Room anymore, will it? It'll just be my living room with doors that lead to places that aren't Room. Oh, my God, I've just realised something. I'm so near to the end of my 24 hours (plus 90 minutes extra for bad behaviour) of captivity...something I hated hours ago...and I think I've grown to like it, to feel comfortable with it. Maybe even to need it? I think I've developed Stockholm syndrome. But as I'm the person who has held me captive, I've developed Stockholm syndrome for myself. Not me me, Room me. I'm me me but Room me came up with the idea to keep me in here in the first place and now I sort of understand what Room me was trying to do. Me me hates having to go outside and deal with people and noises and smells and Room me knew that when he put me me here. He knows how bad it is out there and I've always just accepted outside. I've never liked it, I've just accepted that that's what it is. But Room me knew that here was peace and quiet and if I wanted anyone I had Jerk and Chair and Table and Room me and they'd always be there and they'd never let me down or play the wrong loud music or have a ridiculous ringtone. They'd all just be there for one person: me me. Room me did this for me me and I (me me) really feel touched that anyone would ever care so much about me that they'd show me that I didn't have to deal with outside anymore. Surely that's what real caring is? Protection. Peace. Love? I know I haven't known Room me for long, and there have been times when he's driven me mad, but he wouldn't protect me like this if he didn't...love me. I think I feel the same way about him. I want to kiss Room me. I never want to leave him. Just stay in his safety, in his protection, in his arms. Together. Holding each other and exploring one another.

Don't forget to donate.

You know what? I only have two hours left in Room and then it's over. What could I do in front of this camera that would be the most inappropriate thing to do during a charity webcast? Hmmm....

No, can't think about that. So close to the end and money has come in, lots of money, and I'm still hungover and I feel sick. No point putting extra pressure on myself. I think I'm more worried about how I'm feeling rather than how anyone else feels about watching or reading this. I'm slightly concerned that I feel I might miss Room and I'm certainly VERY concerned about that last big paragraph I wrote. That's ridiculous. There's no way I'd fall for me. I know what I'm like. Although...I'm sure I could change me...No. Don't think like that. I'll say I'll change and I'll believe me but I'll turn out to be a liar like all those other mes. Anyway, I'm more concerned about how comfortable I feel in this slanket.

I mean, I feel regal in this thing. It's huge and it's brilliant how it trails behind me when I walk, especially when I turn. Swoosh! I feel like Darth Vader, except I'm a sky blue, fluffy, cosy Darth Vader. I think I prefer that one. It's all well and good terrifying galaxies but you want to feel snug. I feel snug.

I'm really not sure if I'll stop wearing this for a while. So, when people say to me "Was Red Blog Day worth it then?", I'll take my pills, stare out the window and think "Yes". I'm wearing a thermal gown made for a king. I can't imagine ever needing anything else.

Starting to feel like I'd really love to lie on the floor and rock for a while.

Well, I did but not any more thanks to a fun and lively session with Sigur Ros. I just played one of their tracks and, like with Coldplay earlier, just sat there staring into the webcam. Sigur Ros are the perfect band to play when you're coming to the end of a 24 hour (or 25.5 hour) webcast and blog. They're just a good, standard, dependable, no nonsense rock band that deliver solid tunes that your average rock audience want from a good night out.

I've become quite sarcastic since not getting any sleep. Also I'm starting to detest that stupid sleep that sneaked up on me in the early hours of the morning. Not fair. I didn't want to sleep, it wanted me. I struggled but it held my legs down on that comfy sofa and wrapped me in a slanket. It was useless to argue with it. I tried. I really tried. Well, I probably tried. I can't really remember. It was like the slanket came right up to me and when I saw it I backed away. I didn't want trouble. But that's when the sofa got behind me. I was basically mugged.

And now I'm the one paying the price. I could have gone to bed 17 minutes ago but no. Those bastards just got away with it and, of course, it's the victim that has to pay. So that's why I'll be here until 9.30pm. If I survive. It suddenly feels like 2am again. It's time to liven things up, I think.

Just for a minute, I mean. I've let Tiny Owl, Britain's most lovable violent small bird, on Twitter. Look, charity is just so worthy and caring and so fucking annoyingly nice that sometimes the only way you can cope with the endless cheeriness of it is to pretend to be a tiny owl and threaten to break someone's legs. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. Well, it does to me because reality is a place I've forgotten all about. Plus spiralling out of control seems really easy all of a sudden. I'm exhausted, in pain and getting more and more mentally unstable by the minute. So...I might as well just go along with it. If I want to pretend to be a tiny owl then I should pretend to be a tiny owl. Don't you think I've earned it. Could you honestly look me in my red, teary eyes and tell me that losing my mind is the wrong thing to do?

So is anything keeping me sane? I'm actually not sure any more. It's near the end, sure, but it's felt near the end for hours. Maybe I need to talk to Mark Watson. How did he do it? Surely he must have broken down?

We did great tonight though. Still got half an hour left but we've done brilliantly so far with the total currently standing at £2,214. That is over twice as much as expected. Really impressed by your kindness. Thanks to Stella Duffy, Morgan the Rabbit, Melissa Contreras, Natalie Collins, Dave Steele, Neil Hillen (for the 5th time!) and Nogbad the Bad who all gave from the bottom of their hearts but made us puke our guts up with their pussy attitude to Gift Aid. Not like Lisa Broughton and Steven Dempster who pointed and laughed at the needy charity and the total hero Andrew Goddard who got on the JustGiving page without coughing up a single penny. Good to see someone's putting the fun into fund raising.

So...we didn't know our Jenemy but I had a lot of fun. I really mean it when I say I'll miss it. I'm probably quite a sick person and I don't think I'll get over this bout of madness for a while but I really do think it'll be weird to just switch the camera off and go out. It's been fun interacting with everyone, talking to myself, getting drunk, falling asleep, farting, cooking a roast dinner in aid of famine relief and getting tweets from Richard Osman, my Pointless hero. But it's over now. Or is it? I've thought it was almost over a lot of times before but the end just kept getting further away.

Thanks to recent donations from Gavin, Johnny Two Dogs, Lord Tooth, Katie Gore, Kerri Sullivan, Ewan Duncan, Mark Jones, Rob S, Mark Bowden, Heather Stevens, Jo Robinson, Andy McH, Nadia Jennings, Margaret Cabourn-Smith, Neal Peters, Kathy Bell and Tom Baldwin who all gave and behaved like stubborn cunts over their playing-by-the-rules insistence that they tick the boring I-do-what-I'm-told Gift Aid box. Which leaves John Galantini as our final Red Blog Day hero to post a message on JustGiving and yet to give fuck not nothing. I salute you all. And to every aninymous who gave, I'm very grateful. Thanks. The total at the time of posting this blog was a brillian £2419.18p.

And it really is over. I know it now. Jerk's demanding to be walked. She's been very patient and if she says it's over, then it's over. Thanks everyone. I really appreciate it. It was fucking nuts, eh?