They press the red button. There’s always that tiny moment—half technical check, half existential question—are we actually live? And then, like always, they are. “Okay… we’re live.” “Get rid of that message.” “Which message?” “The one saying we’re being recorded. After yesterday… I don’t trust anything.” And just like that, the tone is set. Not…
It starts slightly off-balance. “It does not feel natural,” the Mayor says, already suspicious of the entire setup.“It’s Wednesday.” Friday has been moved. Shifted. Pre-recorded out of respect for Good Friday. Sensible. Logical. And yet—completely wrong. Fruitloop, on the other hand, is already somewhere else entirely. “I’m going to take a duvet day.” Just like…
We are live. Slightly puzzled, because Zoom has clearly had a quiet little revolution overnight. There is a sign-in button where there wasn’t one before, AI companions hovering in corners, and somewhere between South Africa and France, two entirely different versions of Zoom seem to exist. But that feels strangely fitting, because this episode lives…
“Happy birthday to us.” It didn’t begin with a strategy. It didn’t begin with a business plan, a funnel, or a vision board carefully mapped out in bullet points. It began, as most meaningful things do, slightly off-key. A song. A laugh. A quick check—are we live?—and the quiet reassurance that yes, we are. Recording….
Three. Two. One. “We are live.” “We are live.” “Hello. Good morning.” “Good morning.” “Is it a good morning?” There is a small pause before the answer comes. The kind of pause that happens when someone glances out of the window before speaking. “Yes.” “Why?” “The sun is actually shining and I can hear the…
Rod Stewart, rogue pluckies, sticky notes, and the radical act of putting your phone in jail. And we were live. Hooray. Episode 37. And before we got anywhere near blocked gutters, indoor waterways, or the philosophy of decluttering, the Mayor decided that the moment called for something grand. Not sympathy. Not concern. Not even a…
Or: Wi-Fi, Excavators, Egg-Topped Burgers, and the Art of Not Losing Your Mind “Are we live, Fruitloop?”“We are live.” And like all responsible spiritual leaders, The Mayor immediately escalates. “Raise your hands. Middle finger and thumb together. Close your eyes. No cheating. Repeat after me. Episode 36. I will give the mayor grief.” Thus begins…
Weather whiplash, rock-paper-scissors romance, a French “duck,” and two stone giraffes on a wine shelf. “We are live. Good morning, Fruit.” “Good morning.” “Are we live? Come on.” “Yes, we are live.” “Hooray. We are live. Episode… uh… 30—” “35.” “I got it right! 35. Yes. Bingo. I checked it three days ago.” And just…
“And we are live.” Not just live—alive.Alive with enthusiasm, slightly too much caffeine, and that familiar sense that something meaningful might happen… or we might just end up talking about cows in the street and Grade 1 maths again. Which, honestly, is kind of the point. The hills are alive.The sound of music is playing…
We were “live”… after gassing on for an hour beforehand. Classic. Episode 33 opens with that familiar kitchen-table reality: the clock is ticking, Fruitloop has to be out of the house in about an hour(ish), and Mayor Frank is still recovering from last week’s “massive meltdown” where he walked out of the studio because life…
