Hello. It is March 2026. There’s a pain in your back. It’s not getting better. It will never get better. This is the thirty-ninth monthly issue of Interesting Skull, a newsletter of freelance anguish and biannual hilarity by me, author and occasional bucket-carrier Mike Rampton. I drank loads of apple juice about an hour ago and feel pretty dreadful.

A urinal is called a urinal because your urine-all goes into it. In my house I’ve got a poomostly.

I will be doing a turn at the Cambridge Literary Festival. I was hoping for a long time to get the key to the city, but have recently learned it’s only given to, like, war heroes. So I’ve shifted my aim: now I’m after an honorary doctorate. The more I can become a local hero here in Cambridge, the more within grasp that feels. I don’t really know how they work, and mostly want one so I can be a real jerk about it. Like, if i’m on a plane and someone’s choking, and someone shouts “Is there a doctor on board?” I’ll absolutely stand up and say, “I have an honorary doctorate!” and hope someone else intervenes before the choker perishes.

I went on Richard Herring’s podcast to talk about Poo! What? Where?. I was quite nervous because I’ve been a fan of Richard’s forever — my friend Ant had a tape of Fist Of Fun which I think had more of an effect on my sense of humour as a teenager and adult than pretty much anything else. I massively appreciate getting the chance to be on it. He normally has famous people on it and I am the least famous man in Britain. When I came off it I felt like I’d just spent the whole thing moaning about being broke, but I’ve just listened to it and, despite mis-titling one of my own books and getting an illustrator’s name wrong, it’s alright! I’m quite funny occasionally! Here’s a clip from it:

This is the picture of Peter Freuchen I’m referring to. I love it.

These three books are out soon. Solve The World’s Greatest Mysteries is out on May 7th, So Bad It’s Good: The Art Of The Terrible Joke is out on May 21st and Adulting Made Easy is out on June 4th.

The first one is for kids, while the others live in the world of gift books, perfectly timed for Father’s Day. It’s hard to know how sustainable the “write lots of books, all the time” model is, but I want to push it as far as I can. It’s fun. These three put me and Geri Halliwell neck and neck in terms of number of books published. I think she still slightly beats me in album sales and iconic patriotic minidresses.

“I was in Cambridge and my trousers fell down when walking over the Bridge of something or other.”
“Sighs?”
“They’re a 34 waist and I’ve lost weight recently so yeah, I think that’s what caused it.”

"I recently watched a film made by Aardman Animations and considered how making myself throw up was sometimes a way of easing my grief."
"Solace in vomit?"
"No, it was Chicken Run."

“There’s a word for what beavers do with their teeth. It’s neither bite or chew.”
“Gnaw?”
“Okay, fine. There’s a word for what beavers do with their teeth. It’s neither bite NOR chew. Happy?”

It was World Book Day the other day, which was knackering but really fun. I did two talks each to a school in Hong Kong, my daughter’s school here in Cambridge and an incredibly fancy school in London. I had forgotten how exhausting I find these things — I spend an hour shouting, stomping around and doing rubbish almost-magic, and by the time I come off stage I’m generally soaked in sweat, completely exhausted and being glared at by a PE teacher in the back row. I had thought my days of being openly detested by PE teachers were over, but nope, never!

I have a gag I do where I put a bucket on my head, ostensibly as an experiment to see if I’m easier to understand with or without it, then I remove the bucket to reveal a giant distorted screaming face. It’s a lovely bit of business, and always gets a big reaction from the kids — a big shocked scream, then laughter as they realise what’s actually going on, then laughter at one another for screaming. It’s great fun, but involves travelling around with a bucket.

A bucket is a suspicious object to walk around with. If you’re in the countryside or anywhere farmland-adjacent it’s largely fine, but as soon as you board a bus or train with one, or enter any sort of building, there’s a tension. Nobody thinks, “Ah, it’s probably a prop for an educational, entertaining talk.” They think, “That’s full of something that’s come out of him.”

So ten seconds of a great reaction to a gag can require a day of walking around with people assuming I’m some sort of mobile plopping sick machine (I also sometimes smell like one but for unrelated reasons).

I’ve been trying to think of a way to do the same gag without a bucket, and the only thing I’ve come up with is doing it with a frying pan. I’m going to try, but feel like walking around with a frying pan is just as tiring as walking around with a bucket, plus has the added element of seeming dangerous. Life’s quite difficult!

I’m lucky enough to be totally unaffected by trends. I was discussing this with my kids Hermione and Cartman and they agreed.

"My favourite soap opera character was the one that went 'Moggies are rubbish, I really hate felines because they're terrible, I hold grown-up kittens in very low regard.'"
"Cat slater?"
"No, I don't think it was anyone from EastEnders, it might have been [insert character from Neighbours] etc."

As a doctor, I hired a Roman nurse. It was all going well until I said to her, “Please get each of these patients hooked up with IV drips.”
My nurse looked at me and said, “Four drips each? That’s too many drips. You’re mental.”

I went into the shop expecting to see some hilarious improv from the unpredictable star of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, but was just presented with a selection of decorative ceramic squares. I realised I’d misread the sign: it said “Ryan’s Tiles”.

“I need to go to the computer repair shop, as I spilled a burger all over my Chromebook.”
“Big Mac?”
“No, a Chromebook is a small, portable PC. My larger, Apple-branded desktop computer was fine.”

“I’m going to jump into this swimming pool to retrieve a music album from the bottom, then let’s go to a drinking establishment which has disarray and an unpolished nature as a major part of its aesthetic appeal.”
“A seedy dive?”
“It’s in LP format actually, so no, but largely yeah.”