Tell me you don’t lie awake all day thinking of exactly these:

Where does all the dirt come from? Archaeologists keep finding bones and pots and cities under the soil. I’m afraid to sit down.

How does my iTunes library have music I’ve never heard of?

Why won’t voice recognition take ‘yes’ for an answer?

Was Del Boy based on Steve Ballmer or is it the other way around?

How lazy do you have to be to have invented fractions in maths? Someone asks you what half of something is and you say it’s 1/2. “Take one of it and divide it by two, that’s a half. You’re welcome.” Fractions are the maths equivalent of ikea instructions for solving a problem.

Why do television news channels still preview tomorrow’s newspapers?

Is it really worth strip-mining the Earth and creating a multi-billion-pound industry just so I can wrap my sandwiches in tin foil?

When you book a coach with National Express, why doesn’t it check if there’s a seat until after it’s taken your credit card details? If there isn’t a seat, why doesn’t it tell you which part of your journey is full?

Why are people so critical of the Conservatives when all they’ve really done wrong for the country is be in power?

Why do online train booking websites ask if you’d also like to see prices and availability? Is it because trains are so expensive that the site is surprised you’re looking?

Why do tea bags come in pairs?

If a tree falls down in a forest and there’s no one to hear it, does it swear?

In the next few days I will finish writing an enormous book, a new two-hour Doctor Who audio and a short Birmingham Rep stage play. These have occupied my life, mind and breathing totally for the year so far. What do I do now?