You already know the voice. This week, a different kind of gap — the one between the life you're living and the plot you never actually chose.

Michael Comyn draws on psychiatrist Eric Berne's idea of the life script — the unconscious plan for how things are supposed to go, written long before anyone had a vote in it — and lays out six shapes that plot commonly takes. Not a diagnosis. A mirror, held up long enough to notice which shape you flinch at.

Five episodes into Season 5, Michael turns from what we say to each other to the older question underneath it: who wrote the story you're currently running, and how far back?

For more on the space between intention and impact, Michael's book Mind the Gap is out now on Amazon. https://amzn.eu/d/irNfaHO

The sentence arrives about a second and a half after the remark, and it is always delivered lightly: I'm only joking.

Notice where it sits. It doesn't withdraw what was said — it leaves the remark exactly where it is and changes what you're allowed to do about it.

Michael Comyn on deniable aggression: why a thirteenth-century West African institution got the rules right, what a linguist in Harlem discovered about the one thing a ritual insult is never allowed to be, and why the person doing the teasing and the person being teased are not in the same joke.

Last week, Michael Comyn made the case for silence. This week, the exception — because there's a second kind of silence, the sentence that was formed, weighed, and then never said.

Aviation has a name for the conditions that produce it: the authority gradient, the slope of rank and reputation that information has to climb to reach the person in charge.

On a first officer who hinted four times instead of shouting once, on the three words a captain said that saved a hundred and eighty-five people, and on why we, in this country, are world-class at not quite saying the thing.

The voice that tells Ireland to mind the gap spent thirty years being trained never to let silence happen. In radio, they call it dead air — eight seconds of quiet and alarms sound in rooms you'll never see.

Then Michael found himself in coaching rooms where the silence after a question turned out to be the only part that mattered.

On studio clocks, Irish funerals, the forensic recall of two men avoiding one true sentence, and the answer that only arrives after eleven seconds.

Twenty-six years ago, a voice was recorded in a studio in Manchester. Two takes. The first was used. The second was a safety copy. Nobody thought it would matter.

That voice now tells millions of people to mind the gap. Every day. Several thousand times.

And still, people fall in the gap.

In this Season 5 opener, Michael Comyn returns to the recording studio, to the moment a four-word warning was created almost by accident, and asks the uncomfortable question that the Irish rail network has been wrestling with: why does the most repeated instruction in someone's daily journey arrive when nobody's home?

It's a season about the conversation underneath the conversation. About what's said versus what's heard. About the strange truth that the words you weigh the most are almost never the ones that carry the furthest.

Welcome back to Mind the Gap.

Sometimes the most intelligent thing in the room is the thing left unsaid.

We had a friend called Bob. When someone was being foolish — not malicious, just foolish — Bob wouldn't argue, correct, or sigh. He would go quiet. And in that quiet, the person speaking would hear themselves. Really hear themselves.

Be more Bob.

In this season finale of Mind the Gap, Michael Comyn explores silence not as an absence but as one of the most powerful tools available to anyone who leads, communicates, or shares a room with others.

The silence of restraint — the reply you don't send, the correction you swallow — is the gap between stimulus and response, finally being practised rather than just described.

The silence of generosity — stepping back so someone else can step forward — is one of the most demanding things a leader can do.

Eighty-one episodes. All of them words. This one is about what the words were always surrounding.

Season 4 ends here. Back in June, with a new season and a different set of questions.

#MindTheGap #Silence #Leadership #EmotionalIntelligence #Communication #Podcast #PersonalDevelopment #SelfAwareness #IrishPodcast #BeMoreBob

There’s a railway station in Ireland that exists for one purpose only, not to arrive, not to stay, but to move on.

In this episode of Mind the Gap, Michael Comyn explores a moment that many of us recognise but rarely name. The point at which learning has done its job. The point at which guidance, coaching, or even a philosophy has taken us as far as it can.

Drawing on the teachings of Epictetus and decades of experience in coaching and leadership development, this episode examines the subtle differences between growth and comfort, loyalty and dependency, and staying because it helps… and staying because it feels safe.

It’s a reflection for anyone who has ever asked:

Am I still growing here, or am I just comfortable?

As Season 4 approaches its close, this episode also marks a quiet shift in direction for the podcast, moving beyond its Stoic foundations while keeping the core question at its heart, the gap between intention and action.

In this episode:

• Why the best students eventually leave
• The hidden risk of staying too long in coaching or mentorship
• The difference between support and dependency
• What Epictetus really expected of his students
• Recognising when the work is complete

Closing reflection:

Who would you be, and what would you do, if you trusted that you’d already learned what you came to learn?

Follow Mind the Gap to stay connected as we move toward the final episode of Season 4 next week.

We’ve all met them.

The person who can hold the floor without drawing breath. The one who doesn’t quite notice when someone else is trying to speak. The conversation that somehow becomes… one-sided.

In this episode of Mind the Gap, Michael Comyn takes a thoughtful and quietly humorous look at what it really means to be “a bore.”

Taking inspiration from a line in Dancing Queen by ABBA, “I’m nothing special… in fact, I’m a bit of a bore,” this episode moves beyond the joke to explore something more revealing.

Because being a bore isn’t just about talking too much.

It’s about awareness. Or the lack of it.

It’s about what happens when conversation stops being a shared experience and becomes something more like a performance, with an audience that never quite agreed to be there.

But rather than pointing outward, this episode turns the lens gently back on ourselves.

Where do we miss the cues?

Where do we hold the floor a little too long?

And what does it take to bring a conversation back into balance?

This also marks the 80th episode of Mind the Gap since the podcast began.

A small milestone, and perhaps a fitting moment to reflect on something so central to the series itself, how we connect, how we listen, and how easily we can miss what’s right in front of us.

There’s humour here, certainly. A moment of social theatre you may recognise.

But there’s also something more useful underneath it.

A reminder that good conversation isn’t about saying more.

It’s about noticing more.

In this episode:

• Why being “a bore” has less to do with talking, and more to do with awareness
• The subtle signals we miss in everyday conversation
• How one-sided dialogue quietly erodes connection
• Practical ways to rebalance conversations without confrontation
• A simple question to carry into your next interaction

If you enjoy Mind the Gap, follow or subscribe and share the episode with someone who values thoughtful conversation.

Michael’s books are also available on Amazon.