Boy’s In The Hoody

I have a new idea for a TV show. It’s about two girls, one’s a very chilled martial arts expert and the other’s a cynical and ill-tempered computer whiz with an acerbic tongue. The two meet, become lovers and together they solve crimes. It’s called Punch and Moody and it may sound terrible but I guarantee it will be funnier than Murder In Suburbia or Midsomer Murders. So expect it on five soon – or on Channel 4 if it ever starts to go upmarket again.

The big news of the weekend, though, apart from seeing Theatre Of Blood at the National (pretty sodding splendid stage version of the Seventies schlock horror film) and watching the new Star Wars movie (less sodding splendid if you ask me) is that I am now the proud owner of a hoody. Yup. I am down with the kids!

I’ve always resisted the allure of these before but if they’re annoying John Prescott then I figured it must be about time I had one. I was actually out trying to buy trainers at the time of this purchase but it all got too scary in JJB and Footlocker so I headed for the more familiar territory of Gap to regain a sense of self and be less intimidated by so many colours and so much choice.

I tried to convince myself that I would look quite cool in one of these but I now know I have failed miserably. I look every inch the type of ‘hip’ adult every teenager dreads admitting that they know. I couldn’t fail to be more down with the kids if I was the poster boy for the Sex Offenders Register.

So please resist if you spot me and want to pass comment on how bloody stupid I look. It was a moment of weakness and it won’t happen again...