November 7th

I was never a big fan of mould. But it’s starting to grow on me.

My friend Pinky claims to be ill, suffering from a crisis of identity. He looked quite Perky to me.

To help him get over his divorce my friend Ian is learning to stick rubber to the bottoms of shoes. It’s all part of the heeling process.

During one of our terrible rows my wife broke my artificial leg and ate all of my chocolate fondants. So I’m now foot loose and fancy free.

In a recent poll women said they preferred cheap high street perfumes than expensive & exclusive ones. It’s a victory for common scents.

My next door neighbour popped round to say he’d underestimated the seating arrangements for his birthday party. I gave him three chairs.

I’ve just spent £340 in that new pancake restaurant. They really turned me over.

Just seen in Tesco that they’re selling blocks of cheddar bearing Christ’s image. Jeez.

During our last terrible row my wife tore my first edition copy of Animal Farm in two. But that’s only half the story.

My mother’s husband keeps lying down right outside our front door. He’s a great stepdad.

For ages all I could get from my electronic jelly mould were shapes of chimney stacks. It turns out I had it on the factory setting.

My son has threatened to leave home if I confiscate his world domination strategy board game. It’s a Risk I’m prepared to take.