Is doing my head in. I used to actually quite like the guy but the teenager has been playing "You're beautiful" over and over again this week and now I find his voice only marginally less irritating than Joe Pasquale's. That puts him in the running for a turd of the week award, although I think that overtly gay teenagers look likely to finish top of the table this week. Which is strange as they're normally likely to be found down near the bottom. Or "and finally bringing up the rear, in the colours of Sir Elton John, pink with a brown cap, we have Rampant Fudge Packer," as John McCririck would say.

Me Dad tells me that his weekend trip to Ireland was somewhat spoilt by an overtly camp and gobby 17 year old-ish passenger sat next but one to him who provided a loud running commentary on everything that was happening around him for the whole trip. "Look there's the sea. Oh, look there's the beach, I love to feel the warm sun caressing my naked body, I do. Isn't it amazing that one of these things can get off the ground? Oh, it makes my tummy go all funny just thinking about it. Gives me the right collywobbles it does. Hello Mr Stewardman, you look smart in your nicely ironed uniform. Do you do that yourself? I'll have a Kit Kat please. Just the two fingered type, I can't mange four. Oh you are awful. No, I'd better not have anything to drink or I'll get the giggles. One gin & tonic and I'm anybody's.....chase me, chase me. Fiona, Fiona look at the clouds, like giant pieces of cotton wool aren't they..." Me Dad says that it's ...

Some things just don't go together do they? Like Daphne off Eggheads and suspenders. Or seeing yer Grandad in a mankini. Walkies was round Jacob Smith Park with me Dad this morning and there was this old bloke there looking at his mobile phone, just stood there looking at it, and you could just see he was thinking to himself "what is this strange and magical thing I have in my hand?" A bit like you'd just given King Canute an iPad. And then it rang and he was so startled that he dropped it, I swear. It was like "Jesus Christ what's it doing now!" The guy nearly shat himself, which is quite an undignified thing to do in the middle of Jacob Smith Park. I mean I'm sure that me Dad would have helped out, as he never goes anywhere without a pocket full of pooh bags, but even so. Old people, mobile phones, JUST SAY NO.

I was walking past the bookies with me Dad before and there was a big sign in the window saying that Liverpool are 17/2 to win the Premier League next season. For those of you that don't understand betting, that means if you put £10 on, you lose £10. Pooh count: four, one of which curiously looked exactly like Steven Gerrard. Except it didn't beat anybody up in a bar obviously.

Did you see that guy throw a custard pie in Rupert Murdoch's face on the telly last night? The Clown Prosecution Service are investigating that one I hear. Pooh count: three, two toblerones and a very rare Milky Way....shabba....

It could be an interesting Turd of the Week competition this week with British Unfairways, a very strong contender, now facing major opposition from News International. These two look like finishing well clear of Ukraine Customs and Faulty Airconditioning. The latter, amusingly, was tucked behind a hotel curtain (great place to put an air conditioning unit) and despite making strong whirring noises all night didn't actually push out any cold air at all. It was also remote controlled, so me Dad couldn't physically press any buttons to switch it off, but of course there was no remote control present. So he kind of got all the downside of a noisy air conditioning system running all night without any of the benefits of it actually keeping the room cool. Cool! Pooh count: a load lightening three so far. Groovy.

Comfortably winning this week's Turd of the Week award is British Airways who can look forward to receiving one of my finest through the post any day now. The cheeky buggers made me Dad pay twice to fly back from Ukraine on Friday after claiming that his original return flight booking was invalid for some reason that they could only explain in Ukrainian. He's not famed for his multi-linguistic abilities me Dad, he can just about order a beer in most languages but after that most things are beyond his capabilities. Clearly when faced with a grim looking female shot-putter in a British Airways blouse saying "computer says niet" thirty minutes before he was due to depart was somewhat un-nerving for the poor sod. I will try and get a copy of his letter of complaint to BA and post it up here for your further amusement next week. That could be quite colorful I sense, judging on his demeanour when he finally did arrive home. He said that if we had a cat he'd kick it. Unf...