Via Gert, this - and I know that it's always dangerous to over-sell things, but I speak as I find - is quite the funniest thing I have seen in months. I suggest that you start with the card in the top left hand corner, and then use the "forward" button provided.

Other bits that have made me howl and splutter recently: Chig's "1986 Acorn Incident" (very appropriate for Comic Relief), Meg's "How To Hold A Bunch Of Flowers" guide, and (slightly older, this) Steve's annotated bathroom cabinet.

No doubt thrilled by all the traffic I have been sending her way today, in her great Comic Relief jokes-for-cash quest (which must be seriously threatening her bank balance by now, thanks to my "helpful" publicity), Zoe of My Boyfriend Is A Twat has come up with a suitable Red Nose Tribute for me.

Brace yourselves...

Update: Having just put this page through the Pornolizer (which turns any submitted web page into pure filth), I am particularly impressed with the Pornolized translation of this particular post. Have a go for yourself...but be warned...it really is pure filth.

Tuesday, 11:00. Having been living with the threat of redundancy for the past couple of weeks, my Blogging Mojo has all but shrivelled up and died. In attempt to kick-start my bashful muse, I construct a lengthy link-list, comprising all the (non-music) blogs in my sidebar. I end the list with a cryptic comment: ...and Mike is breathing regularly, and waiting. Will anyone pick up on this, I wonder?

Wednesday, 09:22. In the attached comments box, Buni finally asks the question. Waiting for what? Hmm. Shall I go public on this, or shan't I? Hell, it's only a comments box. Why not?

Wednesday, 12:23. In the same comments box, I answer Buni, and finally go public: I'm waiting to see if I get made redundant tomorrow.

Wednesday, 14:30. Elisabeth is the first person to pick up on the news, with a friendly, supportive comment. Following this, I receive many more such comments, for which I am truly grateful. I come to like the fact that this discussion is taking place off the main site, in the comparative privacy of the comments box.

Wednesday, 18:23. I explain my situation: If a registered letter pops through the front door before 9:00 tomorrow morning, then I've been made redundant. No letter, and I'm still in a job. More supportive comments follow throughout the evening.

Wednesday, 23:25. I announce my official hibernation: I think I'll just hide out in this here comments box until the storm clouds have passed over. It's nice and warm and cosy in here. I bed down for the night.

Thursday, 08:00. Peter is here already, awaiting the news: It's 8am here at Naked Mansions, and the tension is palpable... A small crowd gathers.

Thursday, 08:56. The hour approaches. 'bel: it's 08.56 over in this high Rise apartment block, and I've got the buckets of sympathy ready, but I'm hoping not to need them...

Thursday, 09:10. No letter has arrived. My job is safe. I make the announcement.

Thursday mid-morning. Maybe intrigued by the number of comments that this post is accumulating by now, more of my "regulars" are starting to pick up on what's going on. Various congratulatory messages are left. It all feels very reassuring.

Thursday, 12:33. By now, I am reluctant to re-emerge, despite not having posted for over 48 hours (a rarity on this site - normally, you can't shut me up). You know what - what with Blogger being down this morning, I've rather grown to like it in this here comments box. Do I really have to poke my snout back into the sunlight? Oh, I suppose I'll have to eventually...

Thursday, 12:48. With comment #37, Blue Witch unwittingly lights the fuse. You could try for the longest ever comments box discussion? Not sure how you'd find the current record though.

Thursday, 13:00. A lightbulb flashes on in my head. Yes, why not try for the longest ever comments box discussion - but make it a sponsored attempt for charity? Hang on - tomorrow is Comic Relief's Red Nose Day! Now that my job is secure once again, what could be a more apposite way of repaying my karmic debt? OK, let's investigate further. The current record holder for bulging boxes must surely be the American super-blogger Wil Wheaton. I take a peek at the front page of Wil Wheaton Dot Net. Good grief! There's a posting there with 234 comments! (It's a flame war about "freedom fries", incidentally.) Right then: 235 is my target.

Thursday, 13:13 Comment #38 introduces the project. 235 comments by midnight on Friday, and I'll pledge £100 to Comic Relief. But there's going to be one key feature: I'm not going to come out of hiding to promote this in any way. Too obvious, too easy, too - well - desperate really. I'm not about to start whoring myself for hits. No - I'm going to test the possibilities of effective meme propagation instead. The only allowable publicity for this caper has to come from my readers. In other words: I'm comment-whoring by proxy. I'm comment-pimping, with my readers as my bitches. This is the sort of dysfunctional relationship which appeals to me. God, but what if nobody bothers? This could end up looking really pathetic, couldn't it?

Thursday, 14:30. An hour and a quarter in, and nobody's biting. I make a second plea: ...please, big me up at your place. It's all down to you. I think they call this "distributed computing". And then, I make a vow of silence. No more from me until the target is reached. I am now securely strapped down inside my box, bound and gagged, David Blaine stylee. Jeez, this had better work. One final message to the outside world: I'M A REASONABLY WELL KNOWN WITHIN MY OWN PARTICULAR FIELD BUT NOT BY ANY STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION "A-LIST" EVEN THOUGH NOBODY WHO'S ANYBODY ACTUALLY SAYS "A-LIST" ANY MORE UK WEBLOGGER! GET ME OUT OF HERE!

Thursday, 14:40. Glory be! Someone has noticed! Gert becomes the first person to link to the project. I burrow a hole from Troubled Diva to Mad Musings Of Me, and thank her.

Thursday, 17:20. Two or three more have linked, but the afternoon has been dragging. Only 14 comments since I launched the project 4 hours ago. I am now seriously doubting whether this can be achieved. A passing Stuart chuckles at my plight: You'd really pay £100 not to have to write anything for another day? God, you've got it bad! Yeah, and pass me the vinegar sponge while you're at it, why don't you?

Thursday, 19:00. Hey, things are slowly picking up - I've had 8 comments in the past hour, which makes it the busiest so far. People are slowly twigging. Alan: I've just discovered that you're hiding in your comment box. How ingenious. Come on, Alan - LINK ME, DAMMIT! I make muffled noises beneath my gag, but no-one can hear me. Oh good - he's linked. And so has Caroline. Ooh, good - Caroline has lots of readers, probably including lots of strange Dutch people who I don't know. I begin to perk up a bit.

Meanwhile, my commenters all seem to be a bit tongue-tied. Junio: I seem to be struck with "say something" syndrome. You know, when you find someone who's fluent in Klingon, so you're all, "Wow, say something," and they're all, "Erm, erm--pause--JLARM NE FARNAKEN," which means "something" in Klingon.

Thursday, 19:30. At comment #65, someone called Nev is my first "stranger" to leave a comment. Just four minutes later, he is followed by a stranger called Dumbass. Just one minute after that, there's a comment by someone called Briggy. I begin to feel that I might be crossing a threshhold here.

Thursday, 20:15. Suitably cheered, my real-life alter ego heads off with my mate Buni for several hours' worth of concentrated "I've still got a job!" drinking (my partner K being otherwise engaged, at a posh dinner with the Great And The Good of the East Midlands).

Thursday, 20:30. At comment #74, a previously unknown long-time reader de-lurks for the first time. He is to be the first of several. Who knew?

Thursday, 20:33. Peter of Naked Blog coins the term Comment Relief. The links are now coming in thick and fast.

Thursday, 21:28. In passing, Nigel R (the UK one) reveals that he has driven Daleks at Birmingham Airport. I am going to have to come back to him on that one.

Thursday, 21:42. A weird "conversation" takes place between a Pitman and a Pelvey. It's worth quoting here in full.Thursday, 22:05. At #90, the comments have definitely taken on a surreal twist.
spider baby -
it has the body of a spider,
but the mind of a baby.
What are people on about?

At precisely the same moment, Sue Bailey makes a stunning gesture. FWIW, if Mike gets to 235 comments, I will buy him two years' worth of a .co.uk domain name of his choice.

Thursday, 22:15. At Swish Cottage, David still has his doubts. I have to say, it's not looking all that likely - as I type, there have been 96 comments. Or maybe he's just saying this to goad people on. No matter: the referrals from Swish Cottage immediately come flooding in, which is all Grist To My Mill.

Thursday, 22:23. A milestone, as PurpleTentacle leaves comment #100.

Thursday, 23:00. Bluejoh leaves an entire Shakespeare sonnet. And how apt it is:Thursday, 23:41. Casey of Ultramundane suggests some Diva Aid: I'm somehow picturing a bunch of people standing around a tiny little box, calling inside: "Mike? Won't you please come out of the comments box?" "We could try luring him out with some scotch eggs." "We tried it; didn't work." "Hmm. Is there enough air in there for him and all those comments?" "Dunno; we certainly hope so. We'll try pouring some grappa down there in a bit to see if that'll flush him out."

Thursday, midnight. The end of the busiest hour - since 23:00, no less than 23 comments have been left. Maybe what's needed is a Blue Peter style illuminated thermometer, with the number 235 at the top?

Of course, my real-life ego is still out and about in the beer-soaked homosexual fleshpots of Nottingham, and so is blissfully unaware of all this...

Friday, 00:01. It is now officially too late for me to tell people that on Thursday, I had been alive for exactly 15,000 days. And I had planning to mention this for months, as well. Bugger! Never mind - it just so happens that K will be exactly 16,000 days old on Saturday.

Friday, 00:58. On the discussion forum of a site called Wafflybollox, the webmaster (someone called Badge) announces that he/she will match my £100, penny for penny. Major result!

Friday, 01:30. Between 01:00 and 02:00, there's another surge, with 20 more comments being left. However, they all appear to be left by very, very drunk people who really should be tucked up in bed by now. At 01:30, they all start going on about monkeys, for some unearthly reason. I'm actually starting to feel left out! Left out - of my own personal website!

Friday, 02:00 My real-life alter ego (and my mate Buni) stumble in from the pub, where we have happily been spending that past couple of hours making beer goggle eyes at a sexy chunky monkey. In fact, the night finished with the three of us standing in the middle of the dancefloor in @d2 (aka The Admiral Duncan, Nottingham's late nite homo haunt), arms wrapped round each other's shoulders, bellowing along to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York. Those little town blues had indeed melted away.

Of course, the first thing we do is check the comments. F***ing hell - there are 152 of them! And none of them now appear to make any sense whatsoever! We sit there, scrolling down, dazed and confused. Are they all as drunk as we are? Is the whole world as pissed as a fart, at 2 in the morning on a School Night?

Friday, 02:53. The drunks have all passed out, leaving the insomiacs, the Australians and the Americans to hold the fort. It's at about this stage that I give up trying to keep a tally of how many sites are linking to the project. 22 then, and God knows how many since. Hell, I'm even getting hits from a comments box at Wil Wheaton Dot Net itself now...

Friday, 05:46. The Project is a chance witness to another milestone, as Christopher Schmidt (in another time zone) explains: In 14 minutes, it will be Pi day, 3.14. At 1:59:26 AM, I will celebrate the single most PI second of the entire year.

Friday, 05:56. Quarsan attempts to strike a deal: hi mike, i'll add comments if you'll support my campaign to have condoms re-named as 'freedom letters' or my other campaign for the return of the statue of liberty. Well, I am all for renaming condoms "freedom letters". Consider it done...

Friday, 06:54. My first ever comment from Hawaii rolls in. Aloha, Linkmeister! This is closely followed by German poetry, something in Dutch, and a song about the Um Bongo (apparently, they drink it in the Congo).

Friday, 08:39. Meg has bigged me up on not.so.soft, resulting in a veritable slew of new visitors. Bleary eyed and hungover, I survey the total. 213 - Jeez, we're nearly there, a whole fifteen hours ahead of schedule!

Friday, 08:52. Excitement mounts as the magic figure of 235 draws near. Luca wanted to be #235, but has now made himself late for work waiting for his chance. 'bel reckons that I'm going to reach 500. Chig is singing: Easy! Easy! Easy! Nearly there already! World poverty is about to be ended! Tra la la, la la! Happy Red Nose/Big Hair day everybody!

Anyway, I can't believe I've got myself voluntarily caught up in a wacky stunt for Comic Sodding Relief. This blog used to be edgy, fer chrissakes. It was all "my dead Father never understood me", quasi-literary writing projects and obscure post-punk MP3s round here once upon a time, you know. I've sold out! I'm like Will Self on Shooting Stars! Oh, no matter. The starving kiddies will all thank me. Personally.

Repaying that karmic debt, remember. Oh yes, now I remember. Well, on with the japery then.

Friday, 09:06. Gordon points out: Ohhh that post over at Wil Wheaton's is now on 249 comments... come on people, we can beat that!! He has a point, of course. Nevertheless, the target is sticking at 235...and Gordon's is #227.

Friday, 09:12. Chig: Is it me? Nope: that was #234.

But, within the very same minute, here comes someone called Paul - total stranger, not a weblogger, first ever comment - with these words: Seems like a reasonable thing to do. TA-DAA! 235 comments! Target reached!

And here's Chig again, one minute later: YES!!! Do I win a prize? No, dear. Sadly, you don't.

Friday, 09:29. The secondary race is now on: to beat Wil Wheaton's new total of 249. Here's Dearg: So, if we get to 468, will you donate £200? Not bloody likely, mate! What am I, made of money?

Friday, 09:36. Graybo matches the 249, and JohnG beats it in the very same minute. TA-DAA! 250 comments! We whupped your ass, Wheaton!

Friday, 10:06. The "Let's Make It 500!" movement is gathering momentum. But what, I ask you, would be the point of that? Sheer greed and vulgar spectacle, if you ask me. Because I'm certainly not shelling out any more dosh. One can only spread oneself so thin.

Besides which, there's a snag. It turns out YACCS will only store 250 comments at a time. The oldest comments simply drop off the bottom, and the newest ones remain flagged as #250. People are starting to get confused. People are even starting to think that I'm deliberately deleting comments. Enough of this madness...

Friday, 10:26. I finally break my silence, cast off my bonds, and re-emerge into the sunlit uplands of the Blogosphere - calling an official halt to the project as I do so, and passing the baton on to a broadly similar money-raising exercise at My Boyfriend Is A Twat. It is all over bar the Blogdex ranking (I hit #21 about an hour or so later). This doesn't stop the eventual total rising to a mighty 276 comments, though.

Please give yourselves a big round of applause. Better still, make a donation, at http://www.rednoseday.com/. And finally: here's your proof of payment. Somewhere tonight, a sick kiddy will be smiling. And it is all thanks to you. And my name is Lenny Chuffing Bastard Henry. Goodnight!

What links the following?

The injunction to love all as we would be loved. Ruth. My address book. Innocence. Grammar. Literature. NATO. Accurate information. The phone bill. Language. Nuance. Love. Lycidas. The poor Kangaroo boy. Tooth. News. Accurate data for the public. Truth.

Answer in the comments box later, if nobody gets it.

Clue: kinda topical.

Thanks to all who played along. More info below, and in the comments box attached to the next post after this one.

I am now passing the charity baton along to Zoe at My Boyfriend Is A Twat.

1. Adrian is culling, and saying bye-bye to Barry.
   
2. Alan has been to Florence.
   
3. Angelo grapples with his genes.
   
4. Anna 1 has given me what I have been waiting for for so long: a new story about Mrs. Larry Flynt.
   
5. Anna 2 is comparing crushes with snowfalls, and listing what she wants - what she really, really wants.
   
6. Barbara is sad, but thankful.
   
7. 'bel has become Tea Lady To The Blogosphere (or on Fridays, Cocktail Waitress).
   
8. Ben is examining his Criminal Records.
   
9. Blue Witch goes to a Posh Party.
   
10. Caitlin asks what you are reading.
    
11. Caroline meets a man in a pub, in 1994. (Actually, here's the permalink - because you really, really should read this one in full.)
    
12. Charlie remembers Johnny Paycheck.
    
13. Chig has been hob-knobbing with an Atomic Kitten.
    
14. Choire visits the New York Underground Film Festival, while Philo maintains a comparatively low profile.
    
15. D. has produced a stress toy for warhawks.
    
16. Darren is linking to a Paul Schrader interview.
    
17. Dave 1 is comparing gymnasia.
    
18. Dave 2 goes to Duckie, and plays Guess My Weight.
    
19. David 1 is listening to pre-releases.
    
20. David 2 and Goblin advise a would-be chihuahua owner.
    
21. Diamond Geezer goes back to Norfolk and watches the footie.
    
22. Duncan forgives Clare Short.
    
23. Elisabeth is petitioning on behalf of Ellie Greenwich and Jeff Barry.
    
24. Faustus is in agony.
    
25. Francis becomes the thing he has been dreading.
    
26. Fraser has a yoga annex.
    
27. Gert considers Thomas The Tank Engine.
    
28. Gina has an annoying neighbour who grunts through the night.
    
29. Groc considers whether the word "gay" might have outlived its usefulness.
    
30. Ian has spotted cheekiness in the "oh, bitcheries".
    
31. Jacquelyn watches daytime telly.
    
32. Jeff is curious to smell Hai Karate.
    
33. Jez blows a kiss at the fag-h8ers of Mansfield.
    
34. Jonathan has gone to Nice.
    
35. Junio goes to the opera (Bellini's Norma - so Bellini isn't just a Venetian peach cocktail, then?)
    
36. Kyle is guest blogging here.
    
37. Luca and Dr. Bitful have passed the IKEA test, with flying colours. It must be love.
    
38. Lyle struggles through the valley of f***wits.
    
39. Marcus has keeping rather quiet, sadly.
    
40. Mark has been told he washes his hands too often.
    
41. Martijn goes to the zoo, and takes some terrific photos.
    
42. Matthew discusses the governing principles of "Mob Media".
    
43. Meg is drowning in a sea of spam.
    
44. Nigel ponders entering the 22nd century as a 143 year old man still seeking Desperate Bicycles, PragVec and Bogshed obscurities.
    
45. Nik posts his DJ playlist.
    
46. noodle slides.
    
47. Olav was underwhelmed by The D4.
    
48. Peter 1 tells us how he came to be, episodically (and unmissably, I might add).
    
49. Peter 2 reconnects with crazy times.
    
50. Quarsan links to The Iraq Journal, usefully.
    
51. Ron searches for cheeseburgers in paradise.
    
52. Sarah tells us about the tiny door behind the beer fridge.
    
53. Sasha is being made to wait eighteen months for her appointment.
    
54. Simon 1 is giving cookery classes.
    
55. Simon 2 has been tripping around on electric toes of happiness, almost to the point of levitation.
    
56. Steve has nothing to do, for once.
    
57. Stuart 1 has been re-examining his purpose.
    
58. Stuart 2 has a friend who is paid to give macaroon massages.
    
59. Tinka is in pain.
    
60. Trevor encounters a Psycho Killer.
    
61. Vaughan is pondering his fingernails.
    
62. Vicky recalls Madchester.
    
63. Zoe has an interesting morning, and bemoans bad table manners.
    
64. ...and Mike is breathing regularly, and waiting.

AN OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT FROM MIKE.
STOP! STOP, I TELL YOU!

Re: the madness in the comments box below: YACCS clearly (and sensibly) sets a limit of 250 comments - although the counter at the bottom of the actual posting still goes up, the oldest comments also drop off the end of the box (though I can still read them in my password-protected area on YACCS). So I suggest we call a halt to the proceedings. After all, nobody needs more than 250 comments. That's just plain greedy, right?

Thank you all VERY, VERY much. Thank you to everyone who left comments, and special thanks to all of you who linked. To be honest, I am shocked and stunned that we reached 235 comments by 9:15 this morning. Just goes to show the power of comment-whoring by proxy, I guess...

Anyway, the hundred quid is, of course, duly pledged. And yup, we whupped Wheaton! (But only just.)

(And if you want to make your own donation to Comic Relief, then follow this link.)

Special thanks to Badge at Wafflybollox, who pledged to match my 100 quid with 100 quid of his/her own money. So that means that this pathetic attention-grabbing stunt selfless act of charity has raised (cue Davina-esque pause-and-shriek) TWOHUNDREDPOUNDS!

As Peter said: Comment Relief indeed.

NOW THEN...AND THIS IS IMPORTANT...

Please direct any further charitable urges over to Zoe at the splendid My Boyfriend Is A Twat. A Brit living in Belgium who has never been in the UK for Red Nose Day, Zoe is collecting jokes for char-idee. 60 jokes (max 3 per person) in her comments box means 50 Euros to Comic Relief - and then an extra 5 Euros for every extra 10 collected.

So whaddya waiting for? Off you trot!

...just like we used to do in class when I was a lad. For yes, we really did have our own elocution teacher:

IN! two three four five six seven eight -
HOLD! two three four five six seven eight -
OUT! two three four five six seven eight.

Normal service resumes tomorrow.

(Provided I have fully recovered from seeing Sonia's extraordinary performance of The Greatest Love Of All on Reborn In The USA, that is. Breathtaking, in the truest sense of the word.)

In the meantime, and by way of intermission, and for no other reason than idle curiosity, I'd just like to take a quick Global Snapshot. What tune is currently going round inside your head? Please be brutally honest. (Mine, unaccountably, is the theme tune from Sex And The City The Twelfth Of Never by Donny Osmond.)

Bis bald.