We love Masterchef in our house and were watching Wednesday night's episode on catch-up last night. Did you see it? There was this overtly gay Indian guy on there who looked like George Michael after he's fallen asleep on a sunbed for a few days. Exactly why the idea of a gay Indian bloke should be of interest I have no idea. For some reason you just don't expect Indians to be gay do you? And I'm not talking about the guy out of village people, he was a Red Indian, well he probably wasn't actually a Red Indian he was just dressed up as one. In reality he was probably from the Bronx, but I digress. This gay Indian feller seemed to tickle me Dad for some reason. You know what I mean, he didn't actually start tickling him, with me Dad rolling round on the carpet giggling like a schoolgirl. I mean what sort of TV do you think we've got? "What do you call a gay Indian. A Gindian." Exactly why he thinks that's funny I don't know, but he does. Fol

What a great idea for an xBox game. You get to control Anthony Worrall Thompson running round Tesco on a turbo charged trolley nicking stuff whilst being chased by security guards and a very camp Ainsley Harriott who hides behind the end displays in a dress and keeps trying to kiss you. You can chuck tins of beans at the guards to temporarily disable them, or bludgeon Ainsley violently over the head with a frozen chicken until he's dead whilst stuffing bottles of wine and cheese up your cable knit jumper. I think it's a winner that one. Pooh count: just the one, which strangely featured a couple of perfectly formed and totally undigested garden peas on closer inspection. Fascinating stuff I'm sure you will agree, although not as impressive as the one on Staithes beach that contained a green Monopoly house I'll grant you.

Once more a grim cloud of death hangs over the house as Muffy the guinea pig becomes the latest pet to pop it's clogs in what is looking like an increasingly unlucky household. A couple of days of a cold snap and that was it. She was found frozen to the mesh of her hutch at 7am this morning, like the little match girl she was. Me Mum was devastated. She'd just been out and bought some hay over the weekend. It's a fiver a bag that stuff you know and money, like hay, doesn't grow on trees does it. So now we've got the quandary of how to give her a decent and respectful burial with the ground frozen solid. I mean we can't just put her in the bin can we? The cats round here would have her out in no time. She's too big to go down the toilet, although that could be worth a try, it's swallowed some fairly sizable things in the past that toilet. Simply chucking her over the fence and into next door lacks a certain dignity somewhat I feel. If we were dirty cheati