Comedy blog

I am, if you like, a Chicken Kiev of success – the hot, tasty, success oozing from me right now is delicious, but this is merely a hint at the splendid mouth-watering delights that lie ahead - which is almost certain victory in yet another series of Argumental.

But, while I'm metaphorically serving myself up as some sort of chicken and achievement-based culinary tribute to the capital of Ukraine, it was Marcus Brigstocke and red team partner Charlie Higson who were well and truly eaten for breakfast tonight in Episode 10. It was a late breakfast, ok?

In case you missed it or, if Marcus hasn't quite allowed it to sink in just yet, myself and my Blue team wingman, the legendary Simon Day, won all five rounds of the show. A clean sweep. The full Monty. The entire tube of Pringles. I made the last one up.

But what do you expect? In Round One we had Charlie telling us how much he likes sex, even with himself. Now, I am a huge fan of Charlie Higson as a comedian, as an actor and as an author, but what I don't like is the image of him, veins bulging in his temples, as he cracks one off over busty Russian models on the internet, when what he should be doing is writing a James Bond novel for teenage boys. Unless of course MI6's penetration of the Soviets inner sanctum has become far more literal than it was when I was at school, but even so, it's not something I want in my head, and neither did the audience.

Next, Marcus was on safe territory for a whinging climate bore, but even his – I admit grudgingly - very impressive and funny two-pronged attack on Britain needing more airports was not enough for Simon's no-nonsense and nonsensical approach to psychics who, he assured us, could learn more from reading his scrotum.

Charlie Higson argues being dead is better than being alive and looks like he means it. He's got Brigstocke, who I know would like nothing better than to be dead just so he can finally use the golden coffin he carved at boarding school; here is a man who despises life – his and other people's – a man who hates natural beauty so much he imports humming birds just so that he can bite their heads off.

I, on the other hand, jump for joy every morning at the sheer delight of being given another 24 hours of precious life upon this phenomenal, fabulous, planet floating in this crazy, bonkers universe. It's not enough to just embrace life; we should wrestle life to the floor, grab it in a bear-hug and shove our tongues down its throat as we pinch its here-today-gone-tomorrow arse. To paraphrase that great philosopher of 21st century non-fiction for dads who don't read properly, Jeremy Clarkson; "If human life were a woman...(DEEP BREATH).. then I'd almost certainly be charged...(PAUSE)... with sexual harassment."

But life isn't a woman and I'm not wearing a bubble-perm and crotch-strangling jeans. Instead, I'm arguing life is better than death using pictures of boats which our evil producer hoped would throw me off course. It doesn't, because I know that life – especially when you're winning – is good. I'm winning the series six shows to four and whereas I'm feeling alive and rich with the smell of success, Marcus's chances of victory are starting giving off a funny stink – in fact I'd go as far as to say he's dead in the water.

SERIES RESULTS (after 10 shows)
MARCUS' RED TEAM: 4
RUFUS' BLUE TEAM: 6