All the news that's unfit to blog

Don't tell me the title of this is wrong, because it's not. I'm in the steely grip of a stinker of a cold. If you imagine you're dying of sinuses, you'll be halfway to thinking of how I feel.

It didn't help my health that Herman's self-improvement plan has meant I've spent the last few days visiting him in hospital while he recovers from getting healthy.

He's become obsessed with his appearance and for some reason is aiming for a "size zero". I blame fashion idiots like Ian McShane and Wogan. I've made him take the posters down in our bedroom but I know he still idolises them. I've looked in his wallet

Anyway, he's an idiot because he believed one of his radio ham friends who told him that Cat Deeley always drinks fake tan then sweats it out to get a great all-over tan. The theory is 100% sound but I am DEFINITELY sceptical that Deeley would have her stomach pumped and most of her blood transfused every time she wanted to look lovely and orange.

Also, Herman ended up being treated for heat exhaustion after turning the central heating on full and sitting in the kitchen with the oven door open to "get the sweats going".

The only silver lining is that the smell in the kitchen is now wonderful, just like in Cat Deeley's house, I assume.

The smell of rotting wicker WILL return

The results of my week-long investigation into the unbearable noises coming from my garage are finally in.

If you want to brain-picture the noises, I'd describe them as wheezing and clanging. Also screaming and thudding.

The breakthrough in the case came when I discovered that the noises ONLY came from the garage when Herman wasn't in the house. Then I mounted a surveillance campaign by looking in the garage the next time he went in there.

Conclusion = he's guilty as sin and DEFINITELY "at it" again. I thought he'd got it out of his system but I will NOT cast stones because we were all "at it" in the 80s, but he's an idiot for starting again and will 100% do himself an injury.

I wish he would just stay in the shed where he belongs.

I'm bracing my eyes to start seeing him in gym shorts and sweatbands again. Last time he was into fitness (approx 1987 - do NOT quote me) he used to wear a sweatband on his head, two on each wrist and four on each leg = a total of thirteen sweatbands. The laundry basket had to be thrown out after it bore the brunt of a heavy "workout".

The smell of rotting wicker was unbearable.

I'm also worried about the state of his exercise bench. It's had the chest freezer balanced on it for the last 15 years and was only something Herman got from a garden centre in the first place, so it is almost CERTAINLY a deathtrap for anyone using it for bench pressing or sitting.

That reminds me: I must take some chops out of the freezer before Sunday. They'll be no good to ANYONE if they're "al-dentay".

Loneliness = BIG cash rewards

Ho ho ho!

I've just been hit in the marketing region of my brain with a SCORCHER of an idea!

What do most people spend longest looking at when they're gullible and needy? Answer = lonely hearts adverts.

Here's how YOU can turn the melancholy loneliness of the masses into a stack of ROI bacon fifty feet high:

"Dead beautiful billionairess seeks someone for friendship. Maybe more! About me: I'm not fussy about who I meet so you're DEFINITELY in with a chance. I like the cinema and loud pubs, but one thing I will NOT tolerate is the build up of limescale under the rim of my toilet.

That's why I use Toilet Duck. It stops germs like gangbusters and leaves my house smelling great. It's also great value, not that money is an issue to me.

If you're interested in meeting someone new, you could contact me. But if you REALLY want to have a fragrant and hygienic bathroom, then it's Toilet Duck all the way."

Put that advert in your local paper and watch the money come walking to you. Want to know how it works? Here's the analysis:

• I rope in the desperate by claiming to be beautiful and rich. Then I hook them like greedy fish by claiming to like loud pubs. I'm talking THEIR language now.
• Now they're putty in my fishing net (hand) so I introduce sub-liminal AND plain-liminal information about a product.
• Result = a huge rise in the sales of Toilet Duck in the cash-rich singles market.

Ha ha! This one is a dead guarantee to 100% deliver the bacon all year round, but expect a whopping sales increase around Valentine's Day. It's when ALL eyeballs are on the singles pages.

In other news, Carol has RUDELY announced that she is thinking of staging a musical version of 'Trading Places' this Christmas at the community centre. Everything she touches turns into disasters so steer clear as if it was made from the plague.

She's just trying to jump on MY 2001: Sapce Odyssey panto bandwagon. Get off my wagon! And bring back my baking tray while you're getting off.

That said, I'd throw good money after bad to see Trading Places on the stage. What a hoot! One was deaf and the other was blind. Uh oh! That spells t.r.o.u.b.l.e!

How many miles to Facebook?

Hi blog-reader-lovers!

Everyone is fully aware that NO-ONE campaigns harder than me to keep the internet tidy. As President of the Internet, it's basically my job (it's not paid, so send "the readies" as a token of appreciation. I need the money).

Here's my latest policy decree which should drive through change and 100% deliver the bacon on the tidy front:

When you're driving in your car, you rely on signposts to tell you where to go. At the moment, everyone uses Google like the back of a road atlas to look up where things are. If we had more internet signposts, like in my technical plan above, we'd all know where to go and how many internet miles away it was.

It's the equivalent of being in Leatherhead and thinking "Phew! Only five and half miles to Dorking! I've got time to listen to 'You Can Call Me Al' AND 'Under African Skies' before I get there."

Of course, by the time you've navigated the ringroad, you could probably listen to 'The Boy in the Bubble' as well, but that's just local knowledge. You won't get this unless you know the area.

If everyone jumps onto the signposting bandwagon, it should REALLY sort the ham from the spam.

Meat sorting can also be invaluable in an offline environment when organising fridges and packed lunches. NO-ONE wants to prepare themselves to enjoy spam and find out in their mouth that they're really eating ham. It's a nasty jar for the brain AND the tongue.

Anyway, if you want to help the internet government's work, you can join the cabinet on Facebook.

A long wait until eggy December

It's July 10th which is BRILLIANT news for fans of Christmas. We've got the most boring six months out of the way (well done everyone) and we're DEFINITELY getting closer and closer to the big day!

It's only another month and a half before we're allowed to get the decorations out again, but if you're struggling to labour through the rubbish summer months here's some practical advice on how to get your festive juices wet NOW. Follow this plan and you'll literally hit the ground running when Christmas kicks off in September:

• Close the curtains and turn the lights off at 6pm every night. This will trick your brain into thinking the days are getting shorter = getting near to Christmas.
• Wear less clothes so you feel cold (like in winter) but IMAGINE that you're actually wearing more clothes (like in winter).
• If this doesn't work, wear more clothes (like in winter) and use your imagination to make you feel colder (like in winter).
• If you wear more clothes you may suffer heat exhaustion, so your imagination will REALLY have to be up to the task of feeling cold.
• Not everyone can handle nog, especially egg nog. Prepare your stomach lining NOW with gentler nogs in time for "eggy December".
• Good summer nogs include Ribena nog, water nog and chicken nog.

Now I come to think about it, one of my dining room chairs is STILL in the garden from last Christmas.

The noise in my garage has been unbearable for days. If it stays like this for another day, I'm DEFINITELY going to mount an investigation (look in the garage tomorrow).

The casserole has worked medical magic

After coming back from Falaraki, both my husband and me have been suffering BAD jet lag. I haven't got a CLUE what time it's meant to be! We've also both come down with tickly coughs, possibly as a withdrawal reaction from rubbing Vicks all over for two weeks. On the Belmot illness scale this would rate as "irritating and persistent", also known as a "Vernon".

Killing two health birds with one medicine stone, I made a casserole for dinner last night but replaced the beef stock with Benylin to combat the cough AND create drowsiness. I also replaced the onion, carrots and beef with Benylin too, to guarantee 'impact' on the nervous system.

As a safety net, we also had warm milk (Benylin) before going to bed.

The results have been mixed but worthwhile. I slept like a baby and feel BRILLIANT today, although it's still hard to focus on moving or stationary objects. Sitting down still causes nausea. Herman also slept like a baby and had to be winded five times in the night. It was NOT pleasant for me or the air in our bedroom but he said it reminded him of being in the army.

Don't put ANY store by this kind of claim - he makes them all the time. I haven't a CLUE what he did in the army and he's a whopping liar. He gets all excited and makes boasts about killing this and marching over that.

Anyway, I made him scambled eggs (Benylin) for breakfast, so he's calmed down again (passed out in the driveway) which makes MY life easier.

The holiday is OVER

The mystery has been solved. The christening was DEFINITELY in Falkirk because we couldn't find any sign of it in Falaraki where I've just spent the last two weeks.

I know EXACTLY what you will be thinking and the answer is: no - not a single wireless router in sight. Conclusion = the Greeks are about three years behind us on broadband. If you want to check this, contact the Greek government. It is NOT my job to do this for you.

On many levels, the whole christening/holiday was a disaster. I ONLY packed the essentials in my suitcase (PC tower, monitor, keyboard, mouse, mousemat) and left Herman to pack all the clothes.

On one level this demonstrates trust, but on another it demonstrates he's an idiot because he only filled his stuicase with amateur radio equipment (broadcaster/transmitter, microphone, 50ft of aerial, morse code book).

Now I actually see it in writing, the quantity of electrical equipment is almost DEFINITELY why it took us so long to get through passport control.

Anyway, the cloudy lining was that we had to wear the same clothes for two weeks. The irony is that this would probably have been a great bonus if we HAD actually gone to Falkirk (for obvious reasons).

Proof that Herman is not a logical thinker (like me) is that we couldn't even plug any of the equipment in as he didn't pack any travel adaptors. Instead, he brought a pack of Glade plug-in air-fresheners. If you've been doing the maths as you go along (recommended) you'll realise that the room STILL didn't smell nice because we didn't have any travel adaptors to plug the plug-ins into.

Another bad lining to the holiday cloud was that the weather was GREAT. Normally, this would be a boon but someone (Herman) didn't pack any sunscreen. Instead we had to make do with Deep Heat and Vicks. They stop the sun but they stink ROTTEN.

The sight and smell of Herman lathering himself up with linament next to the pool caused a lot of other hotel guests to complain to the hotel manager about stinging eyes and the whole pool area was closed for three days while they mistakenly drained the filter system.

On the plus side, our muscles were definitely relaxed (TOO relaxed in Herman's case) and we didn't have any Greek colds or Greek flu. Herman boasted to a Portuguese tourist that his sinuses were so clear that you could ride a bike through them, but the tourist got tetchy about this whopping claim and told him to prove it.

The only thing that diffused the situation was the fumes from the Vicks and Deep Heat which the tourist reacted badly to. We didn't see him when he came back from hospital so Herman's bicycle sinus claim still stands. It may well pass into local legend. If you go to Falaraki in the future, let me know.

On reflection, we could have solved a LOT of our problems using money but I don't trust Euros. Last time we had any foreign money, I got confused on "the schnapps" and thought I was playing Monopoly and tried to buy the hotel we were staying in. Lesson = avoid foreign currency.

The only silver lining is that we didn't go to Falkirk. I'm assuming that it's a right dump.