Winding Your Way Down on Baker Street

As you may know, I was in that sophisticated London on Wednesday for the fabled Twitstunt experiment.

It was one of the weirdest nights of my life and, trust me, I've had a lot of weird nights. But in a good way. And I got to meet Lara Greenway, Stevyn Colgan, BrideofChrist, Charles, Sophie and Dan. Good, fun sorts all. But, then, I didn't get to meet them in the conventional sense of the word. But that was the point. I think.

Anyway, I had to get the tube from Baker Street. I'd been there hundreds of times when I used to work in the City and I suddenly realised that I'd never made the cultural pilgrimage.

Not for Sherlock Holmes. For Dangermouse.

And you know what? There is no post box on Baker Street. Children's television lied to me! What a right bunch of Brian Cants.

And, anyway, how did Dangermouse make all those death defying leaps? He only had one eye.

Yes. That's my problem with a programme about a rodent secret agent saving the world from the evil plans of a megalomaniac toad. Depth perception.