And now the good news: er.....

Regular readers will know that I enjoy a rant against the Daily Mail, and most newspapers and the BBC in general for the poor journalism that is rife in Britain: lack of objectivity, hidden agendas, perpetuation of damaging stereotypes and refusal to carry anything other than bad news.

Last week I decided I would try to restore the balance by publishing some good news each week. I'm not talking about heart warming tales of people doing good works for charity. No, I'm talking snippets which make us feel good to be British. Surveys that make us look good compared to other countries. Stories of our eccentricity. People standing up to hoodlums. Court cases where bureaucrats lose lots of money.

Surely there are surveys which reveal more positive facts about Britain than those we hear about? Today's example is that teenagers drive while under the influence of drink and drugs. Great! Surely there must be some positive attributes for teenagers? They can't all be obese, gun-touting, illiterate, drunken louts as the press portrays them?

Anyway, my good intentions faltered last week because try as I might, I couldn't find any good news in any of the papers. Sometimes you find something which sounds vaguely encouraging, for example, how statins may reduce the risk of senility. But these health stories are ten a penny and frankly hokey, in my view. I'm always furious when the Daily Mail takes a health study, usually on a women's issue like HRT, and publishes a shock horror front page aimed at frightening women everywhere, when the survey is statistically useless, and they fail to provide the counterbalance of other studies. See what I mean about objectivity?

The only good news stories I found, and I didn't think they would bowl you over, were: Madrid's public service TV station decides to drop coverage of bull fighting; a First Choice air stewardess successfully delivers a baby during a flight, and the aforementioned about statins.

I am still scouring the papers and hope to bring you some better tidbits tomorrow. If you find anything, do share. Let's try to make Britain a more positive place. Yay!

Worried about David

As a lifelong fan of David Bowie, I have become somewhat concerned about his whereabouts. I know he's happily esconsced in New York with wife Iman and daughter, but we've seen so little of him for the last three years. During his last tour in 2004 (when I saw him at the Birmingham NEC), he had the incident (in Norway I think) where a dart nearly blinded him, and then he had what was described later as a mild heart problem, similar to that suffered by Tony Blair.

But since then, we've hardly seen him and there have been no new albums except compilations. Strange for someone who has always been so prolific. Indeed, when I have seen him (at society gatherings or awards ceremonies, pictured in Hello) he looks bloated and unwell, most unlike his normally angular self. I don't buy the argument that maybe he just wants to take life easy and put on a bit of weight. I think maybe the heart problem was worse than we were led to believe.

I'm so hungry for a new album, a tour and an appearance on Jonathan Ross. My fervant hope has always been that David recaptures the public's imagination by having another blockbuster album. It doesn't have to be brilliant but purely commercial, like Let's Dance. The whole Facebook generation seems oblivious to him (you can only locate him there as "Bowie" if you want to find his music) and this is criminal when you consider that of all today's artists, he has had the most impact and influence. Plus he is still the coolest man in pop, even at the age of 60.

I read somewhere he has turned down an honour, which I think is very sad. It seems crazy when musical lightweights like Cliff Richard and Rod Stewart get honoured and Bowie doesn't. So I hope the right thing is done. Gordon!

Meanwhile: David where are you?

Fairytale surroundings at Aurora

Eating out is one of the great pleasures in life and I have been eating my way round London's finest restaurants for some time now. I don't like pretentious, nouvelle, overly fussy or, conversely, poor value for money and slapdash. So I've become quite a difficult customer to please. Sometimes a pub meal can be great and memorable. Sometimes a Michelin starred restaurant can be choked by its own hype.

My latest foray was to Aurora at the Great Eastern Hotel in Liverpool Street. Not to be confused with a different and far inferior Aurora in Lexington Street, this one used to be a Conran restaurant (no longer). Here you can enjoy modern European cuisine in the beautiful surroundings of a landmark building from the golden age of steam railways.

The dining room itself is amazing with a Victorian stained glass dome. There was enough room between the tables to feel private (unlike a lot of London's restaurants where you are practically sitting with the people to your right and left). Service was excellent, discreet and inobtrusive. Impressive amuse bouches were followed by, for me, Cornish mackeral, which looked and tasted sublime, and then salmon en croute from the carvery trolley with new potatoes and broccoli. My only criticism is that the salmon was slightly overwhelmed by the sauce. As our main course was delayed, we were offered a complimentary pudding and chose the least calorific option, a baked peach with a light-as-a-feather tiny sponge pudding and a tangy sorbet.

All in all, Aurora fully delivered against the very positive reviews on the web, and is well worth a second visit.

The magic of Faro

We've just been back to Faro in the Algarve for a long weekend. We did the same last year, in September, when I suddenly decided I must bask in the sun for one last time before winter. This year, we went earlier (August) but our holiday in June seems a long time ago and the British summer seems to have given up the ghost.

I would fully recommend Faro if you want a simple, authentic, pretty place with a wonderful hotel overlooking the marina that has a "grown-up" outdoor swimming pool on the top floor.

The hotel in question is the Hotel Eva, which is just across the road from the pretty narrow town centre streets. There you will find very few big international shops. With the exception of Spanish retailers Mango and Zara, the shops are local, some selling pottery, one, Bijou Brigitte, selling lovely necklaces and beads. The streets throng at night with the sociable Portuguese (who outnumber the foreign tourists), and there is always entertainment, singing or dancing, in an outdoor stage next to the marina. There are plenty of outdoor restaurants offering locally caught fish.

Faro is not a seaside resort, although if you want a beach there are plenty of small boats in the marina which will take you to fairly nearby beaches. We were too lazy for that. For us, it was straight up to the top floor and the big, rectangular swimming pool, pool bar which does great salads at lunchtime, and a comfortable lounger. It was very relaxing with hardly any children. I had expected August to be really busy, but it wasn't painfully so.

Getting to Faro is easy: Easyjet have numerous flights each day (we counted four landing within 15 minutes of each other, one morning as we were having breakfast).Ryanair and BA also fly there. From Faro airport it's an eight euro drive, lasting 10 minutes, to get to the Eva and your own piece of heaven.

Weep for the British farmers

I'll admit that I wept when I heard the news at the weekend that foot & mouth disease had been found on a Surrey farm. Very swiftly the EU pulled the curtain down and the memories of 2001 come flooding back: the funeral pyres, the black smoke, the grief.

Now I am furious that the fault appears to lie with one of two research laboratories. There are even claims it could be sabotage. I just hope that the two farmers whose herds have been slaughtered will get legal redress for what has happened. As to Britain's reputation abroad, no compensation will restore that. I am pleased to see that Gordon Brown was quick to deal with the issue but he needs to take a very firm public stance if his govt owned laboratories caused the issue in the first place.

Years ago there used to be a saying that there was no such thing as a poor farmer. Now I find it very unlikely that can be such a thing as a rich farmer. Not cossetted and blessed with mountains of subsidy like their French counterparts, life is hard for the British farmer. He or she may have had to diversify; may have had to start again because of BSE and foot & mouth disease, and may be on the point of ruin because of the weather this summer.

Add to that the giant supermarket retailers, and the contempt in which they hold farmers, and you can see it's a brutal, stressful existence. Our retailers make handsome profits and we pay the most in Europe for what's in our shopping trolley.
But farmers get paid a pittance for their milk and their meat and can be dropped after years of trading if one of the supermarkets decides to save a penny here and there.

Musn't grumble (but here goes)

Thanks to the Telephone Preference Service, I have managed to get rid of 99% of those infuriating cold calls. And the Mailing Preference Service has put paid to all the direct mail we used to get. I'm very careful now when I sign up for new websites or catalogues that I tick, or untick, the right box so that they don't share my address with third parties.

All well and good. But since these services came into operation, the amount of junk through the letterbox has quadrupled. I often work from home and during the day I can expect around 10 leaflets on average, ranging from takeaway menus to people offering the services of cleaning / carpentry / carpet cleaning / yoga lessons. Then there's the "to the householder" old tosh that the Post Office is allowed to get away with, and numerous free newspapers and magazines.

I just don't want any of it. The trouble is, I don't see a way of saying no, except for a huge sign saying "NO LEAFLETS / FREESHEETS. HUGE SNAPPING TURTLE ATTACHED TO LETTERBOX". They're generating a huge amount of rubbish, plus alerting burglars when you're away and the letterbox is stuffed with free newspapers. My vote goes to the local councillor who puts an end to it.

The return of glamour

The breathless excitement heralding the new fashion collections in magazines usually leaves me a bit cold these days (it's only ever a rehashing of something from a different decade) but the Sunday Times Style magazine succeeded this week in making me feel, ooh, quite tingly.

First they showed a fashion layout for now with figure hugging clothes. Not a smock or empire line to be seen! And how much sexier the models looked. Empire line, kaftans and smocks have been one of the worst trends for years. Unless you are tall with an ironing board figure (straight up and down, like Paris Hilton), empire line does you no favours. I've tried several variants but always end up looking like Abigail from Abigail's Party. This was particularly gutting when I was keen to buy a floral maxi dress to waft around in on my holiday.

So I'm pleased to see the return of the waist, missing for too long. Before the empire line we had the abomination of jeans and trousers cut miles below the waist, with teenagers flashing their "T" bone thongs, tattoos, muffin tops and God knows what else. And it wasn't just teenagers but women who should know better.

The Style magazine also featured some of the clothes and accessories for autumn. The return of black! Yippee. Gorgeous, gorgeous shoes - brogues with heels (I love those), Mary Janes, t-bars, in patents and metallics. Pencil skirts. Fitted jackets. All very yummy. At long last, a return to glamour. We will all look like laydeez!

Put howling women singers out of their misery

If there's one thing guaranteed to set my teeth on edge, it's the shrieking, toneless caterwauling of the vast majority of women singers.

Very few women can sing well, in my opinion. Most women deliver a pitch that is nasal in the extreme, or, if they think they can sing (Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, even Lesley Garrett), they indulge in cheap vocal pyrotechnics and the kind of screeching that would do credit to a tom cat.

I have to change stations if "I will always love you" comes on. Or "Eternal Flame." Or, the latest horror, Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry." She's gone for that dreadful sob-trapped-in-the-throat sound originated by Michael Jackson which is copied relentlessly by singers including Beyonce and Britney and everyone on those tawdry TV talent shows. Do they think it covers the term "emotions?" Fergie has also perpetrated another crime which is trying to sound like a little girl.

Beverley Craven doesn't seem to have dealt with the most basic of vocal challenges, getting rid of the sound of gulping in breaths. And Madonna, well, nasal in the extreme.

Maybe I have overly sensitive ears. But the only women singers whose voices are harmonious and pleasant are Barbara Streisand, Julie Andrews, KD Lang and Karen Carpenter. As their best bodies of work were many years ago, you can see I don't rate any of today's women singers. What do you all think?

UK Inc is so depressing

At the time of the World Cup there was initially quite a lot of patriotic fervour about the England team and the nation as a whole. Flags suddenly appeared all over the place and the country was on a brief high, unified and optimistic.

It all ended in tears and the country went back to its normal brooding state of resentment and confusion. Unlike the US, France, Italy and Germany, the UK has no true sense of identity. Scotland, Wales and Ireland yes; England no. Until recently, it was bad to even display the flag of St George because it was owned by the fascist fringe.

I find myself pondering over England's sociological status and identity confusion. I made the decision this week to stop buying papers, except on Sunday. The reason is that every day, the papers are just full of doom and gloom about the UK. I'm not talking about terrorism, murders or any other crimes, but simply the cascade of stats everyday that paint the UK as one of the worst places in Europe.

Let's take yesterday as an example. Britain has the worst behaved teenagers in Europe. Earlier in the week, it was revealed that 15 year old girls drink more than boys their age, and get drunk on average once a week. Wonderful. A former boxer dies after challenging three yobs who were smoking. In Gloucester, flooded houses were looted and vandals and children have vandalised water bowsers. Other people meanwhile were marching in and taking far too much water with the "I'm all right Jack" selfish attitude that prevails these days.

Then there are depressingly regular reports about obese teenagers; teenagers armed with knives; bullying; Britain having the highest number of teenage mothers in Europe; Britain having the highest number of university dropouts in Europe.

That's just the youngsters. Then there is what I consider the hidden scandal of how the elderly are treated in care homes and by the NHS; the NHS in general (crippled) and poor public transport.

It all adds up to a picture of a thoroughly unpleasant, divided land. It's unlike other countries where the majority of people are principled, honest and caring. I despair of the mentality of people. What makes someone think it's OK to damage a waster bowser? Or loot someone's flooded house? Or for a gang of teenagers to choose a victim and knife him to death? It's as if millions of people have grown up among wild animals with only a will to survive but no psychological training on respect or self-esteem.

I wonder how we got to this state. A lot of commentators and the Daily Mail blame either "the government" (and I do believe the avaricious Thatcher years have a lot to do with it because the divide between rich and poor became too great) or lax parenting. I think it's a combination of the two plus a general resentment that although we're supposed to be one of the richest nations in Europe, our priorities are wrong and somehow a lot of our public services - the NHS, education to name two -are worse than those found in third world countries. We'll happily spend millions parading up and down with America in countries where we seem to think we have a God given right to "restore justice" based on flimsy evidence. We give great tax breaks to the super rich allowing them to have some sort of "domiciled" status that means they don't pay any income tax. We fail to uphold the family as the structure on which a successful country is based, but make it so attractive to be a single mother there is no incentive to work.

I know there are positives about the UK. Er.....well, the sense of humour and the beauty of the place are the two things that immediately spring to mind. But it's all far outweighed by what is wrong, and I try not to dwell on it because it's just too depressing.

The rise of the humble blackberry

There are very few good things in life that are free. Blackberries are one of them. I was interested to read today that demand for the fruit has grown by 15% in the last year. Sadly though the word blackberry has been hijacked by the accursed BlackBerry hand-held. And the innocent, delicious pastime of "blackberrying" has probably all but disappeared. I doubt if the young even realise you can help yourself to very fine blackberries in the wild rather than going to Sainsburys to buy cultivated punnets from countries like Mexico and Holland, for around £1.99.

But blackberrying can still be done, and a fine pastime it is.

When I grew up in Devon everyone was at it. My dad was an avid blackberryer, and even when emphysema had taken hold, he was still blackberrying, although one time he tripped into a bramble and was virtually held upside down while my mother ran screeching for help.

Where we live, in a leafy suburb of London, there are brambles everywhere. Look, I cry to John as we go out for a walk. Look at all those brambles! We must come back when they're ripe with suitable receptacles.

He humours me while dreading that I may mean it, because I get the impression that taking nature's bounty is not the done thing in this neck of the woods. Last year a piece of wasteground near the garage yielded an absolute bounty of the black beauties and I was in there, happy to get scratched, pushing my way through the brambles to get to the juicier specimens at the back of the bushes.

Unfortunately that was the first and only time because that little piece of wasteground then became a shrine to the car (someone else's) and was hastily stamped out.

And what delicious things were made from blackberries when I was young! Bramble seedless (jam without the pips); blackberry and apple pie; blackberry and apple crumble. Now I have them stewed on my breakfast cereal. I do buy them from Sainsburys but no matter where they come from, Mexico, France or UK, the cultivated ones don't taste anything like the wild blackberries.

So I'm looking forward to the time when they ripen, although I imagine the lack of sun is probably not helping. I'm not telling you all where the bushes are because if you've got any sense you'll be out there too with your Tupperware. Just don't try to pick them when they've gone over. A Devonshire saying is (and excuse me for this), if you leave them too long, the devil piddles on them.

The delicious irony of it all

I had to smile when I read the headlines generated by the Food Standards Agency's discovery that it's not only what the papers euphemistically call "low income families" who eat convenience foods high in fat and e numbers. What the Independent today calls "middle class families" (a bold step nowadays to refer to class!) are equally guilty. In fact, there is hardly any difference between what the two types put in their trolley, whether that trolley is being pushed around in Lidl, Asda or Waitrose.

What made me smile was the imagining of shrill rebuttals and disbelief in the middle class homes of the chattering classes. The people who pay through the nose for organic produce and sneer at "low income families" saying that their children are hyperactive and fat because they're fed a diet consisting of the McCains range, cheesy lunchables and the Colonel's bargain bucket. Their chocolate is by Green & Black, not Cadbury, their crisps by Kettle and not Walkers; they rarely pay less than a tenner for a bottle of wine, and they like to buy fresh herbs and whatever's trendy to stave off ageing, pomegranate, blueberries, etc.

Yet despite all their foody posturing, they still lack knowledge of nutrition and health. Or perhaps they have the knowledge but still succumb to the lure of the ready meal. As one commentator pointed out last week, actually we do all know about nutrition and what we should be doing (making meals from scratch, freezing them, eating five portions of fruit and veg a day) but the way of modern life is not to do this. It's all about ease and convenience.

Today at the gym for example, I saw a car searching for a space closest to the building. Everyone seems to do this, whether it's the gym or the superstore. It's no longer "normal" for children to walk to school, even when they can, or for anyone to walk to the shops, even if they're 10 minutes away. We've become use to this life of sloth and indolence. So we all pretend we're too busy, our lives too hectic, to possibly cook our own meals from scratch. But really we're just deluding ourselves.

Goodbye to the Beckhams

With much fanfare, pouting and posing, the Beckhams have finally gone to Los Angeles.
It doesn't mean that we won't be spared all the usual dross about Victoria's latest shock diet or David's latest haircut. As seen this week, whatever they do in America is instantly broadcast in blighty: for example, Victoria's ridiculous attempts to look sexy while draped over the bonnet of a car, and her appearance on the Jay Leno show. There she apparently criticised Eddie Murphy. Go girl go! That man is the lowest form of life and I'm glad to see that Girl Power is reintstaed following the Spice Girls reunion.

I DO think that David is flushing his career down the toilet. It seems to me that a few months ago when he wasn't being selected for England or Real Madrid he was probably desperate for a new challenge and a megabucks contract in LA probably seemed the perfect solution.

Of course then he got recalled for England but the die was cast. He's gone out there five years too early in his career and he won't be playing for England in a year's time because he won't be good enough. The slow pace of US football won't be sufficient.

Will he succeed in converting Americans to soccer? I doubt it. Others have tried, including Pele. Beckham has the glamour factor, but soccer just won't be fast or furious enough for the Americans.

I wonder how it will all turn out. Will the Beckhams get swept into Scientology, a fate that seems to befall anyone who gets in with Tom Cruise? Will Victoria ever be able to dress down, or will dressing down continue to mean her own brand of jeans with vertigious high heels, huge bag, full slap, immaculate highlights etc.

They are such determined icons that you have to give them some respect. They give hope to chavs and wannabees everywhere.

Back from Cyprus

Yes we're back from Cyprus after two blissful weeks. It was hot and sunny throughout, and on a couple of days quite uncomfortably hot in the early 90s. Quite a shock to get back to Stansted and see the rain and grey skies.

We stayed in a resort called Hotel Nausicaa (also known as Blue Village) where we were pretty much the only Brits among literally hundreds of Scandinavians. This had its advantages: they seem to be role model parents and their children, always beautifully dressed with sun hats, rarely cried or screamed like their British counterparts. In restaurants they sat smiling and eating the same food as their parents. How do they do it?

The hotel stands in beautiful grounds with the loungers arranged on grassy terraces. There were two swimming pools or you could walk to steps leading to the sea. The water was very clear and a stunnihng turquoise.

We were in a town called Protaras which is on the SE coast, about 8km from Ayia Napa. We went to Ayia Napa for dinner one night. I was amazed at how it has changed since I was last there in 1991. Then, it was just one street and a church. Now it's a sprawling development with a new harbour. It was indeed full of Brits, and after a pleasant dinner overlooking the harbour (delicious kalamari) we had a couple of drinks in the "Queen Vic" pub where the staff are mostly British and the beers are draught.

Eating out in Protaras is a hit-and-miss affair. It's a town developed only for tourists and offers a range of different dining experiences. What we found is that a restaurant can be excellent on one night, but terrible the next. For example, we sought out Anemos after seeing it was recommended in the AA Guide to Cyprus. The first visit was excellent: we both had fresh sea bream and it was wonderful, as was the Kyperounda chardonnay (a more expensive local wine at Cyprus £9.25). The restaurant wasn't too busy that time and the service was excellent. The second time, we decided to go for a meze (18 courses). It started off very well with the dips, grilled halloumi and garlic mushrooms. But chips were brought before the final plate of meat, so we had nothing to accompany the pork souvla, spit roasted chicken and sausage. The meat was either dry or fatty, and it was disappointing there was no fish course. This time the restaurant was very busy and the service was bad.

The most consistent restaurant was the Nicolai Tavern. We went there four times and had a good experience every time, more or less (John's pork souvla was a bit dry). Their house wines were unusually good, and the kalamari stifado was excellent. But the puddings were disappointing: just crepes or ice cream.

Our last night was reserved for Parko, a hotel restaurant with better than average service where we'd enjoyed an excellent tornedos Rossini on a previous visit. But, such is life: on our last night, not only were we sat next to some smoking Brits on the left and a screaming toddler on the right, the food was terrible too. John's tornedos Rossini was rare rather than the medium he requested, and my sea bream was dry and bony.

If you've never visited Cyprus I'd recommend going to the northern (Turkish) side which is prettier and more undeveloped. It's a long time since I was last in the Greek side (1991) and it's been developed hugely since then. It's a wonderful placew for sightseeing and variety.

Huge opportunity for grown-up MySpace

I was reading an article recently - and unfortunately I can't remember where it was, because I read so much damn stuff - about the rise of social networking sites like Facebook, Bebo, MySpace. The gist of it was that these sites are the playground of the young: that it's their way of interacting, and we oldsters have no reason to be on them and we're all sad.

I disagree!

We have more need for these sites and provide a better usage model, in marketing parlance. Let's face it, the kids see each other all day at school and then they rush home and spend hours either chatting online or completing turgid and detailed profiles about themselves.

Whereas we oldsters may have moved house quite often, moved jobs, lost contact with schoolmates and former colleagues, plus we might be on the second or third divorce so maybe looking for a new soulmate. We're also keen to do "proper" networking to build our business contacts. Linked In is a good site that offers this, but not much else. Plus we usually have interesting hobbies - photography, travel and so on - where we'd like to share photos and experiences. If you combined all this in a compelling website that wasn't patronising, we wouldn't need to frequent the kids' sites.

But I haven't found a site yet that caters for this potentially huge market, so I do have a presence on Facebook and MySpace, although I'm in a minority in the UK. None of my friends or colleagues in the UK over the age of 30 are on these sites. (I did consider Bebo just a little too young for me!). So Tom, Jeff, the Google team. Seize the mettle.

Katie's fan hits back

Very amused to get a couple of anonymous comments from someone who sounds like Disgusted of Kensington, hitting back at my "Katie Slapper" piece. I suspect it's the same person - possibly Mensa candidate Katie herself - because both times Michelle Mone from Ultimo got a blasting. The funny thing is, I wasn't all that positive about her either (see my last par) - but I did enjoy the way she was the only one so far who put Katie Hopkins in her place.

Over the weekend, other women pitched in with their views on Katie (whose sexploits, btw, were plastered all over the tabloids yesterday). The headline "Superbitches are sad" reflected the views of India Knight in the Sunday Times who said Katie is a sad relic from yesteryear, trying to out-bitch everyone. Ulrika Jonsson (please, no jokes about pots and kettles!)in the News of the World said she was a traitor to all women. "She flirted, simpered, bitched and backstabbed her way to the semi-final. And then she bottled it."

It's time to move on now from Katie, whose 15 minutes of celebrity is now over. But a word to my anonymous comment writer: I would have thought Katie would be a keen Eurovision fan herself. Her 80s wardrobe and make-up certainly suggests that! Perhaps next time you'll be bold enough to give your name?

As for the winner of The Apprentice: my money is on Kristina. Very early on in the series it was clear she was head and shoulders above the rest of the candidates with her mature, objective, strategic insight. She would be a definite asset to Sir Alan. He said a while ago he wanted someone who was fully rounded who could run one of his companies. Kristina could do that easily. Simon is too young; he's a loose cannon. He might have good ideas (not sure that we've seen any) but he lacks gravitas and business acumen.

My celebrity lookalikes

My cool celebrity look-alike collage from MyHeritage.com. Get one for yourself.



I found this in someone else's blog...neat huh? I had to try three photos before it found one that worked...and then the matches I was given were (a) male and (b) Japanese! I've used some of the women who were said to be matches but I kept the #1 match, a male!

Apparently you can upload pictures of your ancestors and the system will try to match them with other people. Probably early days yet, but exciting technology as their database develops.

Paris Hilton: what did you expect?

I had a little snigger when I heard that Paris Hilton had been released from jail so soon on "health grounds." What health grounds, I wondered - a broken finger nail?

But really folks, what were you expecting? That she would do her full term and emerge chastened and remorseful? I knew there would be some sort of dodge to get her out quickly. Money is everything, even with the law.

What surprises me a little is the sentiment around her release. It's like wolves baying for blood. OK, so she's a pampered princess, an heiress whose biggest daily challenge is changing clothes several times and accessorizing the dog's jacket to match. She has a useless, worthless life, but she seems happy enough with that. I don't think she's troubled by enough brain cells to want more.

It seems to me that most of the antipathy is fuelled by nothing more than good old-fashioned jealousy, and outrage that money can open doors anywhere, it would seem.

Folks, get over it: if I take a good long look at the life of Paris Hilton, I can guarantee it's going to be one disaster after another: superficial relationships based on money, drugs, alcohol, dissatisfaction. Unless she finds a cause, or purpose for her life, she will drift. The roller coaster of plastic surgery will inevitably follow as she tries to keep her looks (though I'm always perplexed about this "Paris is beautiful" thing because to me she looks like an anteater). There's nothing very lucky about a life like that.

I am surprised her advisors didn't see this as an opportunity to relaunch her on a better path. Naomi Campbell apparently performed her community service as a cleaner very cheerfully - or so she says in the book that inevitably followed. I was half hoping that Paris would serve her time humbly and then come out fired up with the desire to reform the penal system. But I forgot - I guess you need a few brain cells to do that.

Katie Slapper gets her comeuppance

Wasn't last night's episode of The Apprentice gripping? You could practically read the thought processes as Katie, red in the face, realised the game was up and had to stand down.

The only unfortunate aspect, to me, is that she'd made the final and will probably think she would have won - had she not graciously stepped aside.

It was pretty obvious that Katie was simply there to win the game, not to do the job. She was still denying this on TV today, but Katie, sorry, you're exposed by the fact you didn't even bother to read up on Sir Alan and his companies. If you'd done so, you would have realised he doesn't have an office in Exeter, Bournemouth or any other place where your family and helpers live, and a relocation to Brentwood was inevitable.

It's also obvious that Katie has created a brand, herself as monster, to get some notoriety. She'll be briefly in the public eye as a symbol of slapperdom, ruthlessness, whatever. But she'll then sink like a stone and she'll probably find her colleagues and friends a little more wary of her.

Last night's "The Apprentice You're Fired" programme was also excellent simply for the spectacle of successful businesswoman Michelle Mone giving Katie a piece of her mind. "I would nae employ ye," declared Michelle, the Scottish founder of Ultimo. Katie was unphased and gave some sardonic reply about being glad that Michelle represents public opinion. Michelle snapped back that Katie had too high an opinion of herself and if she was really as successful as she makes out, why was she not sitting in her seat? Priceless.

A few years ago I emailed Michelle Mone with a new business suggestion. I suggested that Ultimo start selling good-looking support lingerie. Not their backless bodies, but waist cinchers and "big pants." At that time, I was way ahead of Gok Wan (How to Look Good Naked) and she could have gained a big competitive advantage by grabbing this potentially huge - in more ways than one - market. But I didn't even get a reply. Not very entrepreneurial, Ms Mone, eh?

Finding out your real age

Nancy Dell'Olio raised a few eyebrows this week when she said she had no qualms about trying for a baby at her age (which is not known, but widely believed to be nearer 50 than 40) because her "real age" is 26.

Real age, rather than biological age, is calculated by assessing many factors including your fitness levels, diet, your immediate family's health, how often you floss your teeth, how many miles you drive and how many friends you have, amongst other things.

I blithely imagined I would have a real age up there with Nancy's because I'm always able to tick "no" to all the boxes that ever ask if you've had asthma, epilepsy, dropsy or whatever; I exercise around twice a week, eat a largely healthy diet, take vitamin supplements and have no financial or other worries.

So I took the Realage test, which is free and accessible here.

It turned out my real age was five years younger than my...er...real (biological) age, but there is plenty of room for improvement. One of the surprise findings is that I don't take enough vitamin E. I had to grab the bottle of high-potency multivitamins and minerals that I take and enter some of the numbers. It contains 10mg of vitamin E when I should be taking 40mg or more, and potassium levels were also low. I don't eat enough grains or rice each week and I don't eat enough of the healthy fats found in nuts and olive oil.

Of course, twice a week isn't enough exercise (I knew that).

It helps if you know your resting pulse rate, cholesterol levels and blood pressure before you take the test. I've had all these done and they were all average but I couldn't be bothered to find the results, so by entering "average" without giving exact data makes the test compilers suspicious.

And no surprises that because I drive around 12000 miles a year, and have a mobile phone conversation at least once every journey (although it is hands-free), I'm at greater risk.

It is food for thought though and well worth doing.

Cold turkey on Big Brother

No, the new inmates weren't given some chilled poultry to enjoy. What I mean is that I, the curious girl, the mysterious Gail, have gone cold turkey on Big Brother. For the first time, I'm not going to watch it. My colleague Matthew has also made the same vow.

For me, it was Shilpa-gate that did it. What bugged me about Shilpa-gate was that eveyone got on their high horses about it but bullying has been rife in Big Brother ever since it started. Remember Shabahz from the last series? Even Jade was bullied the first time round and humiliated when she took all her clothes off, exposed her kebab in a drunken moment, and wasn't rescued by queen bitch Kate Lawler.

Plus, as Matthew says, you waste the whole summer. And the people are usually so dull, so stupid, so tiresome. There's rarely any repartee or badinage. Sometimes the challenges are good, but they're usually few and far between. So, begone, Big Brother, I despise you.

Anyway, I was spared from temptation last night, the night when Davina goes into shriek overload as the housemates go into the house. I was living it up in Swindon, dining at Picklejohns with some pals. Really scrummy curry. And such good company! Paula Lender-Swain you're the tops. There, I did it!