The Headlines following Max Mosley proving in court that yet another newspaper story is based on lies and bullshit and they just hope he's too embarrassed to challenge it in court:

Daily Mail: What Price Morality?

The Sun: Freedom Gets A Spanking!

Daily Telegraph: Mosley Ruling Means Adultery Can Be Kept Secret

Perfect. They couldn't be more predictable. The Mail pretends it's about sexual morals, The Sun pretends it's about freedom (erm, yeah - after all the headlines about supporting 42 day detention without trial you're clearly very pro-freedom) and The Torygraph goes for the poor wife angle.

The lowlifes that fill our daily rags with sensationalist nonsense and non-stories about non-celebs are smarting from the kicking and just can't have the good grace to admit they went too far and try to pull back a little with their invasion of people's privacy.

The judge said "Anyone indulging in sexual activity is entitled to a degree of privacy - especially if it is on private property between consenting adults". Isn't it sad that a judge actually has to spell that out and it's not already a basically understood principle by all.

If I want to indulge in some cakefarting in the privacy of my own shed, that's no-ones business but mine.

Rant over.

For reasons I won't bore you with three of us at work move between offices so a temporary profile had to be set up for us on the computers in our city office so we'd need a different logon and password to the ones we use on our other computers. The new logon was set by the IT guy who has to put the new password in - we don't get to choose. He is a nice bloke and has a decent sense of humour.

So - the other two staff are female and he decided to pick something random but cute and drew inspiration from a nearby wildlife calendar.
He chose "penguin" and "panda".

He spoke to me today and told me that the girl who he picked 'penguin' for immediately got offended and asked if it was a dig about the size of her nose? He was bemused and apologised and said it was nothing like that and she hasn't even got a big nose - it was just a random word.

The girl who he picked 'panda' for also got offended as soon as she found out and asked if he was saying she wore too much eye make up (I'm not kidding). Again he was baffled as to why she would take offence and explained the thought hadn't occurred to him and indeed she didn't wear much make-up at all.

Having unwittingly offended these two women he then told me my password.

He then pointed out that he was amused by the contrast that when I was told my password, which he'd set up for a laugh, I just went "Fair enough. Cheers!" and made no complaint at all.

My password was "c-nt".

Well, I clearly missed out on this one didn't I?!

Not that I normally make a point at looking out for which heap of tosh has won the Turner art prize, but I have recently seen Simon Starling on TV and became aware of his "work".

Shed boat shed. I can barely begin to describe it, I'm that angry. It makes my urine boil.

He got a shed, turned it upside down and rowed it down a river and then put it in a gallery as a shed again.

And that's art! What a cock.

Well, for my next piece (and I hope to win the £25,000 prize) I intend to present Turd Breakfast Turd. You see, first I get a turd and put it on a plate, then.......

Just come across a group of people moaning about Jo Whiley, Chris Moyles, "Comedy" Dave etc and debating which one is worse and complaining about how terrible they are. What do you expect!?

Complaining about the poor quality of what you hear when you choose to listen to Radio 1 is like complaining you don't like the taste when you choose to eat a small cup of cold sick.

Haven't you people got cd players?

So I find myself in some godawful card shop being forced by misrepresented convention to waste money on more ex-trees that have been pulped, turned into card, folded and have some hideously un-romantic pap written on them (Valentines Cards are for sending a secret message to someone you long for, not to make blokes pretend to be romantic by doing something as predictably cheesey and stupid as buy their other half some roses and then carry on being thoughtless and unromantic the rest of the year).

I see a card with a 'cute' little monster on the front with wobbly eyes and a verse inside (because god forbid we ever actually bother to write our own words and bother to express our love for another - much easier to let a stranger who works for Hallmark do it for us) along the lines of "Your eyes are really sexy....your body's really hot...." and then on the back it said - I kid you not - "Contains small parts. Not suitable for children under 3years old".

Well thanks for that. Presumably you do a different range of Valentines Cards with sexually provocative verses inside but without small parts on that I can give to a three year old!??!!

I forgot to mention - when I was in town doing my Christmas shopping I purchased The Big Issue (please do the same - too many miserable f**kers walk past and won't cough up a couple of quid) and as I did the guy said to me - honest to god - "Great. Cheers mate. That's me last one - I can go home now".

Mate - you really need to sort out your sales pitch.

EDITED TO ADD: Thank you for your comments but no I didn't see Jimmy Carr doing this gag. This is not a gag. It actually happened.
He's the Big Issue seller with the long hair who has a dog who usually stands outside Waterstones in Birmingham just down from the Bull Ring.

Well all the adverts for shit on the telly and the subtle hints from idiots I live/work/socialise with as to what they want for Christmas makes me think it must be time for the annual horror that is "Christmas Shopping" or as I prefer to call it - buying crap for people because you feel obligated to based on a religious festival they don't even believe in.

So - I get wrapped up warm and drive into the city centre and queue for half an hour to travel the last quarter mile into the very centre. I then spend another half hour queueing to get into the multi-storey car park which is bursting with stupid people-carriers (everyone used to manage with a simple estate or even a saloon when they had kids back in the 80's) and us fools who weren't up at the crack of dawn and have got here at noon are waiting for each car to come out before another one is let in.

Eventually I park and get out and fight my way through the throngs of noisy gobshites who are utterly incapable of noticing anything other than what is directly in front of them and therefore have to mash everyone else's shins with their bags of crap from Argos as they bumble off towards KFC.

I finally make it to a trendy little "cafe" which serves all manner of different coffees with all manner of chocolate/toffee/milk variations.

And internet access.

After twenty minutes my coffee is finished and Amazon.co.uk, Play.com, Firebox.co.uk and somewhere else - I think it was Boots.com - have sorted all my Christmas shopping.

Like all those smug buggers in your workplace who always tell you their Christmas shopping is no problem as they do it online - I do too, but I do it properly because I'm hardcore. I go through all the hassle to get the presents even though I shop online.

A Christmas present is only any good if the person went through hell to get it for you.

Metallica return with a humdinger of an album recorded entirely in the key of H.

It is a new key they invented whilst in a particularly protracted group therapy session. James was busy not drinking in one corner whilst Lars yelled into a small Brabantia pedal bin about how misunderstood he was and Kirk looked on bemused as he couldn’t fathom why no-one had sussed he’s been playing the same rubbish solo for all these years.

Fortunately this album is as heavy as ever albeit we cannot hear an ounce of the rhythm being provided by the insanely talented [insert name of current bass player].

Whilst it’s not interesting in any way - it’s certainly worthy of note that all eleven songs on this masterpiece were written.

The cover art concept is brilliant - combining a picture of some sort with the name of the band (and the album title) - written in actual words - across the bottom bit of it, sort of in the middle.

Having said all that this album has a sort of menacing swagger and it leaves you unsure whether to adore it or hide in the shed and tell no tales. The riffs fly at you like those freaky monkey things in the Wizard Of Oz. Christ those things used to sh*t me up big time. What kind of weirdo puts that in a kids' film?

Anyway - where was I? Oh yes - riffs - it's got lots of those. Fast ones AND slow ones and some that change halfway through.

Did I leave the oven on?

Sorry - the album - yes - it's er....Metallica really. It is beige metal of the very shiniest order and the lyrics are about stuff and the drums are there too.

In short you should buy it because you are 38 and think you still rock, but actually you have two kids and a Mondeo estate and spend more time listening to Teletubbies and the Tweenies than any other music and so by comparison it still seems cutting edge. Goodnight.

Except it isn't a "night" any more is it? It's a f**king MONTH!!! Why do so many people have to let fireworks off every frigging night and what is the fascination? Surely the novelty wears off eventually. One night a year it's cool (maybe two - Divali is usually a good night) but every night for four weeks is just pathetic. Get a life.

There's a family across the road from us who have been standing in their garden for TWO HOURS watching rocket after rocket go up and go BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG continuously.

TWO hours???!!?!?

No pretty flashes - just deafening bangs. For TWO hours!!!

What's wrong with you? Are you swamp creatures? Are you all a bit "backwuds"? To be impressed by loud bangs repeatedly for two hours......Jesus - I could hit them repeatedly with a hammer around the head and it would have a similar effect.

Then we'd all be happy

Trick please…

Come on then you pasty-faced nylon-tracksuit wearing little shitheads in your crappy Woolworth's masks thrusting forward your grubby little paws in the expectation of sweets or, more to the point, cash (it seems from the demands of the local 'yoof' in my area) show me your "trick".

You aren't getting a treat from me, this is not America. Demanding money with menaces is not cute. As if there aren't enough of you little sacks of puke letting off fireworks til 3am every night without banging on my front door all frigging night whilst I'm trying to watch a movie after a 12 hour day at work.

So - show me your trick - bearing in mind I have come to the front door in MY Halloween costume (DM boots, boiler suit, Voorhees-style hockey mask and large kitchen knife) let's see what you've got???

Hey - come back......

Where are you going?

Why are you running off looking petrified? I thought I was supposed to be scared by your little Halloween pranks?

Hmmmm. Wonder if they'll be back next year.

Oh - and parents - if your kids ARE going to go "trick or treating" (how can three words be a verb?!!) then have the decency to accompany them on a cold dark night when they are effectively wandering around the neighbourhood knocking on strangers' doors and playing the role of every paedophile's fantasy.

"Hey mister....you got any treats for me?"

Irresponsible idiots.

It's quite simple.

There are too many wars, too many pub fights, too much civil unrest, too many arguments. People are always fighting.

We need to do something to promote peace and I thought about a march or a protest or some campaign but that all seems like a great deal of hassle to be honest. However - wanking is something we all do, at least once a day, and it's fun (I assume everyone does do it at least once a day, right?!?). So why not wank for peace?

I suggested this idea to a few people and they said that they couldn't actually see how it would help. None of them questioned my enthusiasm for wanking nor my commitment to peace, but they couldn't see how it would help.

Well, here's how. War is about aggression. Fights start because people have too much pent-up aggression. What better way to release it than a good old fiddle!? These warmongering lunatics are primarily religious types - and their leaders are ususally revered Religious icons. And what do senior religious figures all have in common? They're celibate. They get no sexual release. It all builds up and they get aggressive.

So I say let's all have a wank - everyone - and encourage your friends and family to do it too. Be careful how you phrase it and which of your friends and family you address your comments to or you could have a really awkward meal time.

So - one and all - come forth and come forth - let us wank for peace.

We thought they were long forgotten but Survivor return to prove that we have actually forgotten ourselves - yet they remember all things.

This album is just a stone’s throw from the seminal “Eye of the Tiger” but it’s also miles away - as if it were right at the bottom of a field and you were the other side of the farmhouse, wincing.

The collection of songs on offer are steadfast, good old fashioned rock-by-numbers rock - and you can’t argue with that. But then - Survivor don’t want to argue with you - they want to take you on a trip that is nostalgic, but also modern in a really not nostalgic way.

The contradiction is beautiful and it tickles, with the tracks coming at you one by one like scorned lovers from your past turning up on your doorstep night after night to remind you of your indiscretions and poor table manners. The sound conjures up images of a manatee on a skateboard honking with delight as it ollies it’s way into all of our hearts and, dare I say it, all of our tomorrows.

Buy this album - if only for the reason that you want to listen to the songs on it. And don’t say I didn’t warn you!
(because I just did - just then, in that last bit)

1. Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are flat?

2. Why do men believe you when you say there are four billion stars in the sky, but they have to check when you say the paint is wet or the plate is very hot?

3. Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?

4. Why do they use sterilised needles for death by lethal injection?

5. Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?

6. Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?

7. Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"?

8. If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?

9. If it's true that we are here to help others, what are the others doing here?

10. Do married people live longer than single ones or does it only seem longer?

11. If someone with a split personality threatens to commit suicide, is it a hostage situation?

12. What level of importance must a person have, before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

13. How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on big suitcases?

14. Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up every two hours?

1. Cheggars cant be boozers.

2. Laughter's the best medicine. Unless you're asthmatic, and then its ventolin.

3. People who live in glass houses shouldn't masturbate with the lights on.

4. Tact is for people who aren’t clever enough to take the p*ss.

5. When your wife/girlfriend asks you to "be totally honest" she doesn't actually mean it. What she meant to say was, "tell me exactly what I want to hear and make it sound convincing."

6. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

7. Dogs have owners. Cats have staff.

8. Don’t go to Nuneaton. It's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there.

9. Everyone has at least one great novel in them. Except Dan Brown.

10. The one who smelt it dealt it.

11. DJs - Impress people by learning a real instrument. Alternatively, shut up, take your record-player and f**k off.

12. If you are a necrophiliac sadomasochist who enjoys bestiality, you may as well give it up. You're flogging a dead horse.

13. If at first you don't succeed, pay someone else to do it.

14. Who says men can’t multi-task. What about w@nking and moving the mouse at the same time?

15. There’s no sadder feeling than accidentally leaving your mobile at home all day and then returning to find you have no texts or missed calls.

16. Americans: No, that’s not irony. That’s called a co-incidence. There is a difference.

17. Organised people are just too lazy to look for things.

18. A true friend will never say 'I told you so'; they will just pour you a stiff drink and listen.

19. Never, EVER, mix sleeping pills & laxatives.

20. There are 10 types of people in this world. Those who understand binary and those who don't.

21. The phrase "What are you, some kind of c**t?" can only ever be used as a rhetorical question. Unless you’re at a fancy dress party where the theme is genitalia.

22. Under no circumstances should two men ever share an umbrella.

Not a bad programme - little documentary about the edges of the country where they meet the sea. Splendid.

The long-haired Scottish fella who presents it is okay too. I'm not about to start a rant about him though. So why am I mentioning him you ask?

It's that bag - that man-bag he carries with him all the time. On screen he always has it with him. Why? TV presenters on location have a team of people who do the camera work, sort the lighting, directing, food, drink etc and a general runner who does all the odds and sods. If the presenter needs stuff - they sort it for him - he doesn't need to carry it round with him in his own little bag.

So why does he carry it? Well.....either he has it for effect - to be a little trendy f**ker and make a fashion statement. However, his kagoul and Marty Pellow haircut would tend to suggest he's not a Hoxton fashion type.

So - the only other reason can be......it's got his special precious stuff in it. There must be a collection of items he holds dear in some sort of weird clingy way - or they're just too secret to let anyone else carry and he needs them at all times.

So what's in the bag? Porn mags and a bag of special toffees and a picture of his childhood sweetheart who is now married to an engineer in Hartlepool? Is it his special hammer for cleaning the streets and some rubber gloves and bleach? Is it the Turin shroud? Is it a huge bag of E's for when the show gets dull and he needs to boost his enthusiasm levels before the next interview with some bloke pointing at lichen on a rock?

I wish I knew.

I like coffee. Not that instant shite - that bears no real relation to coffee.

I like ground coffee beans with hot water on them. Except it's a hassle to make. So I was most pleased to discover coffee bags. Ground coffee - in a bag. Like tea bags!!! Brilliant - easy to use and I'm surprised they haven't been around longer.

Except they are each individually wrapped in a foil packet in a great big box which seems utterly pointless when they could be in a single big foil pack - just a gimmick if you ask me.

Then I noticed the other day what was written on each packet - right next to the tiny little slit.

"Tear here" ???? No - that would be too easy.

"Tear here to open" ????- no - far too straightforward.

How about "Tear gently to free your coffee bag"

WTF!?!?! Tear it GENTLY to FREE your coffee bag. What sort of nonce idiot dreams that stuff up!?! I'm not drinking it any more out of principle because idiots write nonsense on the packets.

Please, please, PLEEEEASE...........

If you have children under the age of 4, don't take them on aeroplanes unless you have taught them some form of discipline. Those of us who sensibly choose not to go on long haul foreign trips with small kids have no way of escaping your screaming little shits for several hours you selfish, small-minded fools.

If they are under 12 months old it is hardly their fault if they are crying or whatever - but why take them on a foreign holiday???

When I was little we went to Wales or Cornwall in the car so that our tantrums were only inflicted on our parents who CHOSE to be shut in a form of transport with us.

So - wait til they're over four and not prone to crying/squealing and then you won't ruin the flight for SEVERAL HUNDRED PEOPLE, MANY OF WHOM ARE TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP AND NONE OF WHOM CAN GET AWAY FROM YOUR WAILING LITTLE BANSHEES.

Oh yes - and in the brief time I have spent in two pubs since the smoking ban came in I've noticed that now they are no longer smokey, unhealthy places to be - more parents are bringing their fucKing kids into the pub.

Not the big chain, diner-style, happy to have kids there type pubs - but decent proper pint and a game of darts REFUGE FROM THE FAMILY type pubs.

Having a pint should be accompanied by fags, darts and blue jokes, not the screams of children and women glaring at you for swearing because little Milly is nearby doing her colouring in and having a glass of coke.

I don't hate kids - well, actually I do - but isn't it best that they are either
(a) taught to behave; or
(b) not forced by their parents to spend 11 hours on a plane

Trust me - when you're 3 you can have as much fun in Devon as Disney World.

No, I didn't think so.

So why are you wearing shades indoors? You sad, deluded tool.

If you were Keith Richards, or Ozzy or Steven Tyler - you could get away with it. But you're not. You're some chav lad with a spiky haircut in a bar who thinks he's it.

Well stop it. Anyone who is not in a band who wears shades indoors is a total and utter arse-wipe.

John Denver’s latest album pukes out of the speakers and into our homes like the purest statement of intent. “I’m not f**king dead, you lot” he seems to say. Although he doesn’t ever say that.

The album begs the question….but never proffers the answer(s). And therein lies its beauty - albeit a really frustrating beauty whose face you want to scratch with handfuls of straw.

It fills your ears but never involves your eyes or mouth. It’s a collection of words and chords and bits of stuff that sounds like an orchestra of windmills laughing at the notion that Todd Carty could ever have a successful spin-off series from Eastenders when his character is essentially two-dimensional and relies wholly on interaction with characters that are already well-established.

I think that Tony Parsons summed up our loss most succinctly when he wrote the words “Oh you bloody plane you. Bloody bad bloody plane. So much you did rob us of with this dear sweet man whom you took from us”.

Yes.

Well, as I went to my place of work today certain civic buildings were coned off so you can't pick up or drop off outside them. Vehicles can pass by down the road as normal, but the bit next to the pavement outside the building is cordoned off.

With the terrorist burning jeep hopeless nonsense that did nothing other than singe the occupants and annoy the airport authorites, I guessed this was related. So I asked the nearby plod "Why is this coned off?"

Reply "To stop people who may be car bombers"

But of course. I should have known that if you are hurtling at high speed towards the entrance of a large civic building in a 4x4 packed with half a ton of explosives, that a row of 18 inch high yellow cones with "Police" written on them will stop the impact.

Why do they bother? Or do they think terrorists are real sticklers for Highway regulations and will think "Well, I was going to park my car outside the council house there and detonate it, but if I were to stop I would be breaching the local parking by-laws and that's n ot what I'm about. No, sir. I'm a law-abiding suicidal maniac intent on murdering dozens of innocent civilians".

Or (and stop me if I'm being cynical here) perhaps it's the government yet again trying to con us into thinking they are doing something useful about the problem by doing something noticeable yet useless.

How about a sensible look at our foreign policy and why it is we keep pissing off half the Muslim population of the world, rather than the sticking-plaster-on-a-severed-limb approach we currently have.

Not from a Mesa Boogie head with a Gibson SG jammed against it with the volume turned up to 11.......from people on e-bay.

I get something in the post from an e-bay seller and it's all in order and I write nice things on the feedback form because I think that's all very nice.

So.....I end up with two tickets to the Metallica show at Wembley this weekend and I can't go. So......do I flog them (they are front standing tickets - sold out section) on e-bay for a huge profit??

No - Buy It Now - face value and I don't even charge them postage. Some bloke purchases them and I send them First Class recorded delivery and at the same time e-mail him to let him know they have been sent and wishing him a very jolly time at what promises to be a stunning gig.

Nothing. No response, no feedback, nothing.

So I send another e-mail a week later asking politely if he got the tickets? Still nothing.

Before anyone thinks "he may be on holiday" - the gig is this weekend so I doubt it. He gets an absolute bargain for a sold out gig and I e-mail him twice to check he gets the tickets ok and I get no feedback.

What a c**t.

Hmm, maybe I should write that on his feedback?

Someone e-mailed me to ask what the hell I'm on about in my album reviews.

Let me explain briefly..........

I come from a generation that read Melody Maker, NME, Sounds etc and saw the emergence of music journalists as people who thought they had some great literary prowess or poetic turn of phrase. My view is shut up with the bollocks and tell me if the album is any good or not.

I explained that the likes of Paul Morley (and in her day as an NME scribe Julie Burchill) wrote such pretentious bullsh*t that I just gave up on their nonsense and took to reading reviews online. They would use ludicrous epithets, similes and metaphors to describe songs like they were mythical beasts or legendary masterpieces and something more than just - well - a song.

They would also do this really annoying thing of writing "it's as if they're trying to say...." and put their own interpretation on everything. They would suggest that some cheesey pop song was about the struggle of the Suffragettes or neo-classical philosophy when it was actually Lionel Richie singing about Dancing On the F**king Ceiling.

So I decided to write the same sort of thing - as pretentious and surreal and utterly pointless as the real thing. I thought I was getting carried away and just being silly until last week I saw a review by the one and only Paul Morley - of Brian Ferry's album.

I am so jealous. It is more ridiculous, pretentious and mental than anything I have come up with.

Please note - this is EXACTLY word for word as it appears on the liner notes for the CD..........
"Well aware of the lateness of the hour, the brightness of the day and the fullness of time, because ultimately there's no hurry - and a void to fill - the surefooted Ferry heads out into the black colossal brevity of the fourth track. With just the correct amount of transcendent grace he sings the song - which is just a song - and much more than a song, as if to say 'wherever I've been, whoever I've been, whoever I met - and it might have been me, it might have been you - whatever I've seen, whatever happens next - because it means a lot to me....It's been an absolute pleasure' "

What a c**t.

I went to Donington to enjoy the heavy metal festivities and noticed something that seemed to happen every time someone spotted themselves on the big screen as the camera swooped around the audience.

I kept seeing the side view of them as they waved/gurned/stuck their middle finger up. None of them were shown facing forwards. None of them twigged all weekend.

WAVE AT THE CAMERA, NOT AT THE SCREEN YOU F**KING MORONS.

Thank you.

I don’t know how to begin with a summary of the aural pleasures provided by The Offspring’s newest and, let’s be honest, brownest offering.

It immediately snaps at your heels the second you open the case and by the time you put it in your CD player it’s positively foaming at the mouth even though it doesn’t have a mouth in the literal sense.

Press play and fireworks go off like the end of a really lovely party in Nottingham - but be careful. Too many listens and you can find it’s more like a bad, bad accident with a sparkler and a child’s eyes.

This disc is the sound of the younger generation rebelling against the older generation but then reacting back against themselves in an even more rebellious way. It evokes images of rolled up newspapers being used to whack kittens into waste paper baskets like some lunatic croquet match.

And the only way to describe the lyrics is that they fall out of the speakers and prostrate themselves on the floor - demanding to be picked up, chewed and then spat into the face of anyone who dares to wear a uniform or call themselves a ‘citizen’.

This album demands to be heard. And then demands to be put away properly in its case and put back in the right place in your alphabetically arranged CD collection.

I know that has been said before, but McDonalds seem to have learned it's frigging irritating and stopped getting their staff to trot it out like a mantra if you choose not to order fries.

So why is everyone else doing it?

WH Smiths... "Would you like a half price chocolate orange with your magazine?"

"NO - I can see them sitting on the counter right in front of me in a desperate attempt to catch my eye as your stocks are massive and you need to get rid of them but I didn't buy one because I don't want one so just sell me my f**king magazine"

HMV do the same - they insist on offering me a half price dvd from the selection strewn across the counter right in front of me. I'm buying the new Deicide album - do you really think I want a copy of The Santa Clause on dvd?

I know it's what they're told to say by their bosses but come on - think about it - at least pick your target audience properly. Yesterday I was buying some wrapping paper for a birthday present. I stupidly picked the day before Mothers Day when all blokes, true to form, are leaving it to the last minute to buy a card for their Mums and so the queues were enormous.

And EVERY bugger who got to the till was being asked by the grinning fool behind the counter (whilst pointing at a garish, crappy LED in a bit of plastic on her right tit) "Would yer Mum like a flashin badge fer Mothers Day?".

Cunning you see. Not "Would you like?" but "Would your Mum like..." - making you immediately feel more reticent to say "No" as they're asking if your dear old Mum would like an extra gift or are you too tight to pay the extra £3.

Fortunately most people realise their Mothers would be mortified if they had to wear a small piece of yellow plastic that flashes and draws attention to them so sales were not going well. However, what really annoyed me (god knows why) was that they were asking everyone - no matter what they were buying.

If they asked people who were buying Mothers Day cards - that's not so bad - but to ask everyone.....well I felt the need to highlight the pointlessness of their little marketing campaign.

I get to the counter..................."Would your Mum like a flashing badge - only £3????!!!!"

"Er.......no.......I don't think so. She died last month"

Stunned silence followed by very swift purchase of some wrapping paper.

Just seen a clip where they are explaining about teenage kids who have gone online and given a complete stranger (slightly saucy) photos of themselves, plus their phone number and home address and guess what - they turned out to be perverts, but their parents weren't monitoring their internet use so they didn't know.

And they want my money to stop it? Erm....NO!!!

You are 14 and have your own PC and need my charity money!?!?!?

If your parents can't be bothered to look after your welfare properly why the f**K should I?

I will give £30 to a childrens charity tonight instead but if a 14 year old girl is THAT stupid and her parents aren't monitoring her activities I have no sympathy (btw - nothing happened to her - they eventually sussed it was some 40 year old nonce). even if I did have sympathy why should I pay money to stop it happening. Can't they sell the dozy kid's PC and give the money to kids in Africa who have no clean source of drinking water? Children In Need should be saving the lives of kids like that not paying for dimwits to go on courses to tell them what their parents should be telling them which is not to post naked pictures of themselves on Facebook!

I despair.

I'll eat pancakes on whatever day I want to. So nob off.

Phil Collins prances back with a ruddy great twat of an album. It’s as gleeful as it is glib and, in many ways, makes you want to f**k something really thoroughly.

It’s as if the 1970’s never happened, but all the other decades happened twice. The songs lurch, leer and fart at us like petulant wasps intent on stinging the only person at the Regatta who’s actually allergic to wasp stings

The wall of bang and fizz that ripples out of the speakers is like the noise of Little Jimmy Krankee ageing as he/she/it begins to realise the hypocrisy of the cabaret circuit and wails longingly into a conch shell that’s been smeared with horse fat.

This album makes fools of us all.

Is it just me or has the whole damn country gone mad with the snow thing? How much of the news is going to be taken up with talk of snow? It's not news!!!

Sky even had their helicopter out showing us images of five chavs having a snowball fight on a hillside.

Excuse me, but, er, isn't there a war on and stuff?

The weather IS NOT NEWS. In fact it is SO not news that it even has its own section after the news - called "The Weather". So stop it.

Right now.

After all - it would seem more appropriate.

Being a big music fan I go to a lot of gigs. I remember the days when a booking fee was just that - a booking fee. To cover the cost of the people who answered the phone and took the booking. Couple of quid per order.

In the last few years it’s gone from a couple of quid per order, to per ticket an now it’s getting more and more. £5 per ticket for a gig at a major venue recently and then I went online and bought tickets for a big outdoor festival.

£8-50 per ticket booking fee. And I did all the work myself by booking online - nobody took my order or did anything.

Are you trying to get back at the e-bay tossers you singularly fail to combat by making your own extortionate profit on top of the ticket price? Yeah - join in the constant struggle to kill off live music despite a resurgence since the heady days of clubbing, raves and the like almost killed it in most small venues.

Oh and then on top of the booking fee there’s a £1-50 “admin fee”!!!! Is that the bit where the mugger kicks me in the balls AFTER I’ve already handed over my wallet and phone?!?

Still - the P&P was only £4-99 for two small pieces of paper in an envelope.

Arsebags.

I was strolling past a rather dim and dodgy pub today - you know the sort - big chain pub in the centre of a big city - full of people drinking dawn til dusk or until their giro money runs out. Not that I’m stereotyping.

Anyway - there was a rather charming poster in the window with the headline “Treat her” underneath which was a picture of two bits of meat cut into heart shapes nestling together.

Underneath it said “Two steaks for £9-99 14th Feb”.

Marvellous.

Mind you, I did think perhaps the poster was incomplete and the headline should have had a few more words after “Treat her” - such as “like shit” or “with contempt”.

Nothing says “I love you” better than steak and chips. And what a bargain price too. As long as she pays her half, of course.