Hey Micky. You smell.

Fuck you, Head & Shoulders. Better still, shove your head and your shoulders where the sun don’t shine. And follow up with a pineapple for good measure.

First of all, I do not know a ‘bloke like Micky’. And I don’t know anyone who does. Why? Because people like Micky tend to be sectioned and removed from society very quickly. Because they know their hair is a ‘weapon to be used’.

Yes, if you carry a 2ft mohikan. Yes, if you use potato peelers as hair extensions and mosh at a gig. That’s weaponry. Some stupid hair gel is not. Unless you drink it. Then it might just kill you.

And what kind of woman would fall for a penis with glasses announcing they are ‘in-tee-leck-shoe-al?’. Again, can’t think of a single one. And why would you need a secret weapon to have ‘morning hair’. You get up. You get out of bed. It is before lunch time. There you go. Piece of piss.

If I ever meet Micky in a dark alleyway (that’s if he doesn’t woo me with his secret weaponry, as I am just another dumb blonde looking for a mop), I should like to knock him out with a metal dustbin lid (my own secret weapon), shear off at least one of his ears, smash his glasses and proceed to give him a short back and sides with a nice Bic razor. Then I shall stick him in a fish restaurant’s rubbish bin upside down, that’ll teach the bugger.

The Gourmet and the Asthmatic

Chhhhhhh! Hope you're enjoying your meal. Aaaaaah! Ooooooh! No, this isn’t some sort of late night cable programme about squirting whipped cream on bodies from a can, this is merely a Marks and Spencers advert. Someone hand that woman in inhaler, and they better do it quick! She is dying! Is nobody else noticing that somewhere between the ‘fffreeeeesshh aaaaah chummer frooooohts’ and the ‘diviiiiiine aaaaahccccchoooohvis’, there is a human being struggling to breathe? Being asthmatic myself, I find that very insulting. And there is nothing wrong with Dutch tomatoes, oven chips and 35p a packet pasta. And if M&S food causes me to wheeze or sound like an ageing sex chat line host, I know what I’d rather be eating.

Warts and all

THE DOCTOR USED TO FREEZE MY WARTS! Now I use … WARTNER!

What the hell? You what? Sorry, we’re somewhere between the X-Factor and Wifeswap and I had not been pondering about warts for, uh, about twenty years. In fact ever since my cousin Barbara took it upon herself to remove both her own and her cousin’s warts with her bare hands. Despite our desperate attempts of hiding behind my grandmother’s settee.

So, why now? Is 2007 unofficially the Year of the Wart? Why has nobody told me! I could have spent 2006 growing warts to I can WARTNER them off myself in 2007, feeling victorious and indulging in a new found sense of medical DIY. Dear Jim, can you please fix it for me to have my warts frozen?<?i>. For prosperity? Like a very gory time capsule? ‘Oh look, fellow Martians, what do we have here? Could this be … a peasant’s wart that is over a millions years old? I cannot believe our luck! Heeheee! Finder’s Keeper’s!’ . Somehow that sounds wrong. Maybe best to freeze the warts and eat them or something. With a nice Bechamel sauce.

The worst kept secret. Ever.

’Hi!!! I’m Nadine Baggott, celebrity beauty editor!’. Hold it right there, Nadine! What exactly is it you do? There is an array of magazines scattered around your desk, how do we know which one you supposedly work for? How can we trust you, if you start off by feeding us lies, Nadine? Oh, I see, PENTAPEPTIDES!. The hottest ingredient around. For sure! Only yesterday did I indulge in some Penne and Pentapeptide Bake’ Yum. Thanks, Nadine.

And sorry, Nadine, I can’t actually see your youthful skin, for it is obscured by about two inches of heavy duty makeup and looks strangely taught. And am I the only one thinking that ‘Regenerist’ sounds like an anagram of ‘Fascist’ after merely replacing most of the letters?

What’s in Your Wallet?

Waterskiing in the Bahamas? But I’m 95 years old and have a bionic leg! . Could this be any more realistic? Fraudsters love waterskiing. A lot. In fact they love it so much that they will spend 80% of the credit limit of your cloned card on watersports. Whilst they blow the other half on guinea pigs in spandex aerobics suits. I am now very worried about having my identity stolen and being reborn as a rodent on a shopping spree. The new me will also take ballet lessons, put on a show of figureskating hamsters and travel to Antarctica by black cab. Because that way, I’ll never get caught.

Hiding your mother’s greys

Davina McCall in silver haired shocker! Why would you announce the coming of age of your head publicly. I see, she’s one of us. Like humans, she has the ability to not only produce offspring, she can also grow grey hairs. Thanks to modern technology and a blowtorch. Oh wow. And she even cheekily tries to disguise the greys in a flurry of keeraazy aubergine and maccarron tones. And she dies it at home! Presumably with gloves and coloursplatter over the sink, mirror, bath, carpet and the rest of the house after she trod in some dye and spread it around dogpoo-style. How likeable! How very likeable! She even gets her mother on board. Only that her mum is too ashamed to actually appear in the advert and prefers a Wizard of Oz style telephone operation and might as well be bolder than a freshly laid egg for all I care.