Royal Fever...

Firm royalist Jilly Cooper was on Radio 4 this morning discussing the impending royal wedding and one of the interviewers asked her what she'd get William and Kate for a present.

I was praying she'd suddenly discover a repressed republican side and answer: 'A cake and a vibrator... then if they don't like the cake they can go fuck themsleves.'

Sadly she didn't and wittered on about buying Charles and Camilla an ornament with pictures of their dogs on it instead.

A good comedy chance wasted by the bonk-buster authoress, methinks...

Dry...

I have just completed my annual January off the booze and am now looking forward to my first pint in a month.

It is my fifth year undergoing this self-imposed booze exile and my third time of completing it. I succumbed one year on the final day of the month as there was a pool tournament and another year I cracked after 20 days following a spectacularly awful day at work.

But this year it's been a breeze, largely because I spent several months last year not drinking in preparation for my black belt grading.

I quite like the idea of trying tee-total for a longer period. But I love a pint or two and would miss it.

The only dodgy side effect my no-drinking seems to have had is a series of odd dreams, culminating in last night's night-time imaginings that I was dating Bianca from EastEnders and we were looking at a grotty flat in Goole for her and her kids. I persuaded her it was a dump and told her, plus the kids, to move in with me.

Then me and Bianca got jiggy to celebrate moving in together. And she was a surprisingly tender and responsive lover...

I probably need a pint...