I’m going to Wales on Saturday morning. Carmathenshire resident sheridanski is getting married, and has had the wonderful idea of having a village fete instead of a reception, with egg and spoon races, eat 3 cream crackers in a minute competitions, sack races, welly throwing and buns. By taking the decision to get married on midsummer’s day, you’d have thought that the happy couple would massively increase their chances of the whole thing not being a complete washout, but at the moment the BBC weather forecast is looking a bit ominous. Still, I’m sure I can eat 3 cream crackers in a minute even if I’m holding an umbrella, although the sack race might prove tricky.

There’s a competition for “best handmade item” which, apparently, is mandatory to enter. I’m still struggling to think of something that I could make, and I’m slightly appalled that my manufacturing capacity has slumped to such a miserable level. No wonder the economy is going to the dogs. If sheridanski widened the category to “best handmade item or duty undertaken”, it might have a bit more relevance to today’s service-based economy. I just know I’m going to end up making some f#cking biscuits. Pathetic. Maybe I’ll make a nice box for them to go in, out of a DVD spindle box. The biscuits will have to have a hole, of course. Let me think a bit more about this.

Anyway, it’s always lovely to go back to Wales. Of course, I’m saying that as if I was brought up amid its craggy landscape, living off lamb, bilberries and bara brith. I wasn’t; I was brought up in Bedfordshire, living off chicken and bananas – but what kind of fascist police state are we living in if you’re not allowed to feel moderate affection for the country of your mother’s birth? Last night, BBC2 screened Rob Brydon’s Identity Crisis, in which he explored the notion of Welshness through interviews with mates, schoolkids and entertainers, and attempted to assemble a 1-hour standup comedy routine about being Welsh. My favourite bit was when AA Gill – a noted Welsh hater, along with Anne Robinson – asked Brydon if the Welsh actually had a word for “enjoy”.

There’s something intrinsically deadpan and incredibly funny about the Welsh accent. The esteemed Green Gartside has shaken off his, but he only has to slip back into it after a few drinks down the pub for me to be spluttering with giggles. It’s the same reason that Chris Needs is essential listening. As I’ve pointed out before, I heard one caller say, matter-of-factly, “hello Chris – my sister’s currently undergoing hyperbaric oxygen treatment. Oh, and do you remember me telling you about Phyllis from Llansamlet? Died last Thursday.” Tears of laughter.

But this slightly less amusing piece of audio – cackhandedly recorded and posted on this very blog three years ago – is the most fantastically Welsh thing I’ve ever heard, despite having been recorded by an English woman with a pronunciation sheet in front of her. Welshpool, Newtown, Caersws, Machynlleth, Dovey Junction, Penhelig, Aberdyfi, Tywyn,Tonfanau, Llwyngwril, Fairbourne, Morfa Mawddach, Barmouth, Llanaber, Talybont, Dyffryn Ardudwy, Llanbedr, Pensarn, Llandanwg, Harlech, Tygwyn, Talsarnau, Llandecwyn, Penrhyndeudraeth, Minffordd, Porthmadog, Criccieth, Penychain, Abererch and Pwllheli.

I had an urgent message from the publicity department at Apple yesterday to contact them asap regarding the new iPhone 3G. I thought they were going to give me one for free. I was really, really wrong.