WASHED AND READY TO EAT

The Evening Standard yesterday ran a feature on people who commute outlandish distances to London for work and pay through the nose for the privilege. Julie and Jonathan Shepherd pass through six counties on their way to the UK capital from Nottinghamshire and shell out about twenty grand between them. On principle, Julie refuses to buy a coffee on the train as she thinks she's been fleeced enough already for the ticket by East Coast Main Line. Quite how features hack Jonathan Prynn kept a straight face while he penned the following line though, I really don't know. "The couple have noticed a slow deterioration in the buffet service - they now stock Walkers rather than Tyrrells crisps." It's hard for us to imagine the suffering that is being inflicted on these poor souls, isn't it? Only one step away from hitching a ride on an open-top freight wagon.

Excitement at Woodford Towers as a postcard arrives depicting a paradise island in the tropics. In time-honoured fashion, the card bears the legend 'wish you were here?' and shows gleaming white sands and crystal clear blue ocean. Which of our lucky friends could be enjoying such a well-deserved break? The reverse is something of a disappointment. A fake stamp and one of those 'handwriting' fonts beloved of marketers. The missive is addressed to Jo B Seeker and reads as follows: 'Hi, I heard you were looking for a new job and thought this would be ideal. I have found this great company that publishes lifestyle magazines...' Turns out that I could be working as a Media Sales Executive for Sheengate publishing. 'Catch up soon...' concludes the gushing copy, as it tells me of phone numbers to call and addresses to email. I don't know about the job, but one thing's for sure. I pray I never go on holiday with the sad individual who sent the postcard.

News that the Fonz has received an OBE from the Queen will warm the hearts of all those who grew up watching Happy Days . It appears that actor Henry Winkler has been recognised for the work he's done in highlighting the problems of dyslexia, rather than the hard graft he's been putting in during the British panto season. The only question, I guess, is who's next for an honour? Anson Williams, perhaps? According to Wikipedia, Potsie now owns a cosmetics company and was last seen addressing the US Patent & Trademark Office's 2008 expo, where he expounded on the importance of intellectual property to small businesses. Or how about Don Most, who played Ralph Malph? Unfortunately, advisers to the British government might have a harder job making a case for a medal. His Wikipedia entry is rather threadbare. "Most makes a brief appearance," we are told, "3 minutes into the 17th episode of the fifth season of Family Guy titled It Takes a Village Idiot, and...

Ever worried that Jesus is a bit too wimpy? I mean, sure, the guy goes around preaching all this ‘love thy neighbour’ stuff and extols the virtues of turning the other cheek, but he’s also the dude who stands up to ancient Rome and turns over the money tables in the temple. Isn’t it the muscular antics of the Saviour that we should savour? Crazy as it may sound, the ‘feminisation’ of Jesus appears to be a real debate within contemporary Christianity and some people have decided to rebel against it. According to a recent article in The Guardian, Stephen Sawyer is one of the renegades. He likes to depict the Lord in manly situations. Dusting down his gloves in the boxing ring, perhaps. Revealing his latest biker gang tattoo. I’m still trying to work out the relationship between Macho Jesus and his more familiar alter ego, Trendy Jesus. The two figures seem to come together in a Christian lads’ mag called Sorted which is endorsed by BBC TV presenter Jeremy Vine and describes itse...

I've noticed that I adopt a very strange posture in the passenger seat of our Peugeot when the kids ask me to Shazam a track on the radio. I stretch forward to place my iPhone close to the speaker with my left hand, while tapping instructions to the music app with my right. I'm wondering whether medics are now being confronted with a bewildering new range of strains and injuries with no obviously identifiable cause.

I stir things up in the press after being fleeced on holiday in sunny Switzerland. Click on the image to enlarge.

Shake it Daddy... when you're spoonfed DIY tips, you'll soon have the perfect unit for your new stereo hi-fi It's high time that WARTE had a new featured publication and I've plumped for the DIYer's must-have read of the late 1960s, Easy . Styled as 'the magazine that pays for itself', the title is full of handy tips for the man about the house. Some projects are serious (see the desk construction sexual fantasy below), while others are just designed to make life that little bit more fun. Why not explore 'the full potential of expanded plastics', for instance, and start making sculptures out of polystyrene? One example quoted is a model volcano that gives the 'cine enthusiast' a thrill as he plays with his railway set. Later he's shown creating a plastic swan that 'almost fooled passers-by into feeding it with bread crumbs'. Bathtime a little bit boring? Not any more. In November 1968, writer Steve Burrows tells us how to create a...

Mmmm...I hope this really will turn out to be the desk of my dreams... It's just as I imagined it. But don't tell the wife.

Flicking through the London Evening Standard the other day, I read about the arrest of Neil Wallis in the News of the World phone-hacking saga. The former deputy editor of the now-defunct Sunday tabloid was known in press circles as 'The Wolfman' - a moniker which grew out of his bushy beard or, alternatively, his lycanthropic theories about the behaviour of a criminal he was pursuing, depending on which source one turns to. A few pages later, there's a story about a court case involving friends of renegade rockstar Peter Doherty. One of the people mentioned is Peter 'Wolfman' Wolfe, whose nickname is perhaps easier to fathom than that of Neil Wallis. Two legal cases in one paper involving Wolfmen? This suggests to me that perhaps it's not the most auspicious of labels. I wonder if the Bullingdon had a Wolfman? If so, he could be right at the heart of government as I blog.

I note that Domestos has a product called 'Total Blast Toilet Gel'. For someone like me, who's never found cleaning the toilet a very enjoyable experience, it's great to know that the process can, in fact, be a total blast.

At my local old folks' hall, which I visit for the mini-Ws' tap-dancing lessons and in mental preparation for my own admission, someone has posted details of the funeral of a former member. After the crematorium service, there will be some food at the hall, followed by a game of bingo in the deceased's memory. My mind is wandering skywards and I'm thinking of an old lady - freed from the limitations and travails of earthly existence - looking down from the biggest bingo hall of all. With a ghostly hand, she marks her ethereal card and waits for the opportunity to call 'house' one last time.

News that scientists are running ad campaigns for monkeys will come as no surprise to those who believe the advertising profession preys on people’s more primal instincts. The bizarre experiment does, however, raise some exciting possibilities. If, as boffins believe, apes can be influenced by sexually provocative billboards to prefer one brand of jello over another, couldn’t the idea be extended further? Fast forward a few years and perhaps dog food will be advertised to the ultimate four-legged consumer rather than his two-legged owner. At this point, we’ll need to check the brand messages and creative approaches with representative targets before the campaign goes live. “I’ve found two Cocker Spaniels and an Alsatian for the focus group, but we can’t fill our quota of Labradors. They just don’t seem to respond to the usual incentive of Hollings Pigs Ear Strips.” “Bring back those golden retrievers we used last week. The client won’t know the difference.”

In what must surely be the weirdest news since we learnt that the Nazis trained dogs to speak , it’s been revealed that Burmese figurehead Aung San Suu Kyi was sustained through captivity by radio broadcasts from veteran DJ Dave Lee Travis . After his untimely departure from Radio One in the 1920s or sometime soon after, the Hairy Cornflake seemed to make his way back on air – this time for the BBC World Service. His ‘Jolly Good Show’ made Suu Kyi’s world more ‘complete’ according to reports. For all I know, the feisty democracy campaigner was up for playing snooker on the radio with DLT if the Burmese junta had given her an outside line. I am bracing myself for further revelations. Perhaps, in those dark hours when Nelson Mandela was held captive on Robben Island, he was comforted by the sound of Steve Wright in the Afternoon? The south Londoner’s chirpy characters helped him make light of what would otherwise be a grim situation. “It makes me SO ANGRY, I could throw the whole aparth...

Interesting new approach from a local estate agent which I need to report to WARTE readers. I've previously been sold the line that there's an eager would-be purchaser who's paying the agent a fee to find him a property. This act of insanity and benevolence to potential vendors means that I am able to sell at no charge. Now, a twist. We are told in a letter addressed to 'The Legal Owner' of Woodford Towers about a named individual - let's save his blushes by calling him Mr Peter Miller - who has expressed a particular wish to move to our street. He used to live here, before heading for nearby Richmond. Now he wants to return to his 'much-loved road'. "Obviously," writes the agent, "this is a genuine enquiry." Obviously. The genuineness of it all was the first thing that struck me. Because people who go to Richmond often realise what a terrible mistake they've made, don't they? The river. The wine bars. The cappuccino. ...

In a heartwarming twist to the London Evening Standard's literacy campaign, the little girl who told her teacher the only book she had at home was the Argos catalogue has received big piles of books from benefactors. Strangely, Argos has got involved too, shelling out £500 to present the young Aurella Brzezowska with a ready-made library. While I can only applaud the retailer's generosity and sense of corporate responsibility, it does seem odd to me that they won't stick up for their catalogue. Who says you can't learn to read from the compendium's bubbly promotional blurb? After all, the Bible was often the only book in a poor Victorian home and formed the basis of an education. A is for 'air straighteners. B is for bargain.

I am in big trouble. Compliance may get involved. My Head of Division at the bank may be informed. My misdemeanour? The mandatory fire safety training that I was supposed to do is now overdue. The training people are quite persistent. And the fact that I don't actually work for the bank doesn't deter them from sending further emails. Where's it all going to end? I can see myself getting sacked from a job I never had. It'll make a great employment tribunal case. The situation is reminding me a little of the pickle I got myself into a few years ago and recounted on the BBC Radio 4 show Home Truths . I started receiving voicemail messages that were meant for a maintenance guy who worked in a big building. The electrical socket near the paternoster lift on the sixth floor needed fixing. There was a plumbing problem in one of the toilets near main reception. I liked these calls so much that I just allowed them to keep coming, which I guess meant none of these things ever got...

Further to my earlier observations about the badges people wear at Tesco to identify their hobbies, I noticed a guy in my local store making quite a brave, anti-corporate statement. He tells us that he likes holidays.

I’ve always been amused by the strange formula used by UK police forces to announce the progress of their investigations. They never like to give away people’s names – even when everyone knows who’s involved – so we’re told they’re “questioning a 32-year-old female in connection with an incident in Nottingham city centre” or whatever. Imagine if British cops had been first to Hitler’s bunker in Berlin during 1945. “In a statement, police confirmed that they were called to premises beneath the Reich Chancellery yesterday after local residents reported hearing gunfire. The body of a 56-year-old male was recovered. Enquiries are ongoing, but the circumstances are not thought to be suspicious and the police say they are not looking for anyone else in relation to the Second World War.”

I happened to encounter two identical twins sitting next to each other on the tube the other day. They were fairly atractive young women - Americans, I thought - and were the spit of each other to look at. What was interesting was that they wore exactly the same clothes, but in different colours. Matching checked puffa jackets - one in pink, the other in purple. Tracksuit bottoms, trainers, carefully applied lipstick. Eerily similar, but each with a unique hue. It was almost as if they wanted to make a statement about how they were separate people. To the keen psychological observer, however, the conscious display of individuality didn't cut any ice. Both girls crossed their right feet over their left feet in exactly the same way and spent the whole trip on the Northern Line in silence, fiddling with their long hair. Biology beats wardrobe every time.