Lovely Lolly for Jamie

Mums" hero Jamie Oliver versus mucky-mouth Gordon Ramsay. One has Michelin stars, the other is minting it. One shouts and bawls on the box, the other weeps bitter tears, but guess who is coining it in? It's Jamie all the way.

While Ramsay lost money in the recession, Oliver saw profits rise to £37m, up from £20m two years ago. Does it for me. Despite the fact that our kids think Jamie has Downs Syndrome he is clearly a very clever operator.

He's also a nice guy. Over in the States he cried when his lovely food went to waste and the school dinner ladies blanked him. Fat, unhealthy kids worry him so he does something about it. Not like the lardy- arses who reckon turkey twizzlers are just fine and dandy.

Setting up his 15 Restaurant staffed by kids on the dole he would get them out of bed and give them a lift to work. Often frustrated and deeply fed-up, he listened and cajoled and turned their lives around. So he's making millions - well who wouldn't bank on Jamie?

Aliens this way!

So they've got a nice pretty lady from Singapore Airlines to sort out the aliens. Phew that's a relief! Actually she's an astro-physicist from the UN, but they'd snap her up on the planes because she looks so friendly, and really, that's all you want, with aliens.

It's this Take Me To Your Leader thing. Nobody knew who that was, so they trollied out Malaysian Mazlan Othman, and she's obviously made for the job. Can't tell you how happy that makes me! What if they landed here? The dog would go mental for a start, give it a lick and then probably drop dead because it'd be like those Amazonian frogs, covered on poison.

Me, I'd be offering a cup of tea. Is that what they like? Should it really be wine, or beer or even bleach? What about deisel? Cut off a bit of hose and let it suck it out of the truck? Does it even go in that end? Who's to know?

Bit of a minefield. You wouldn't want to get it wrong. Or laugh. Our dog is the closest thing to an alien in this house and even he has his dignity. Hates being laughed at. That I do know, though all else is a closed book. Swear he understands us a much better than we him.

Those aliens will be cleverer than us, having come all this way just on Sat-Nav. They should suss who to speak to before they land but it's sure be a case of: "All our lines are busy at the moment, however we do value your call...."

Your Turn Now Boys!

Come to the end of the rope, we really have. We've stuffed jelly in our chests, poison in our faces, needles in our lips and ripped out every hair. Now they tell us to have fat injected into our bums. "it's attractive to men" says a top plastic surgeon. He'll hide the scar in " the grand canyon" Ouch! So that's alright then.

Enough! What about the sloppy, hairy, ugly men out there? What are they doing for US? Guys, time to sort those moobs, fat is bad and wrinkly worse. Lipo that paunch and those love handles - we don't need something to get hold of. Not true, we do and yes, size does count. We'd like hair on the head. No shoulders, ears or, God help us, noses. Apart from all that, we're not fussy.

Seems these days it's the ladies who do all the running. Boys sit back and bask , convinced every babe is gagging for it, despite the beer guts and builders' bum. And as long as we listen to megga-rich plastic surgeons telling us to model ourselves on sex-shop dolls they might well be right.

A Battle Too Far

There's a war on. and the debt is piling up, but some things matter so much more - like kerb appeal. The council's green bins are ruining it for Judie Chisholm in Paignton, Devon. She is so seriously miffed by the bins that she is suing the council for five grand. Absolutely, Julie, hear, hear, those bins are an outrage.

They've totally lowered the tone of her property. They've "wrecked all kerb appeal in one fell swoop, " she claims. Terribly hard to bear. How can she sleep at night, knowing the horrible thing is out there and there isn't a cat's cuss she can do about it? Apart from claim the cash that is.

How we all feel for her. Our two brown and two grey bins are a source of real heartache. How we weep at the sight of them! So big, so ugly so, well, useful! Perhaps the council should just take away the bin if Judie hates it so much. Big bags on the front lawn are so much more attractive, especially after the local moggies have dined al fresco.

Grin and Bare it Hilary

Facelift or forget it? it's a tough one Hilary! Go under the knife or take hammer from a hostile press. La Clinton was never the best looking in the presidential family but she always made the most of what she had. Now she's sporting the Croydon facelift - that's a great big clip hauling back her hair and hopefully her jawline too.

The dilemma is acute for powerful types. Everyone knows that nip and tuck tells more about your state of mind than your pretty face. Alpha females are supposed to be above all that superficial nonsense, they have more important things to think about. Like taking the stage at the UN General Assembly.

If Hilary sneaks off to a Californian uber-surgeon everyone will know and think her dreadfully insecure. So she is putting on a brave face and dragging the hair back to expose every line and wrinkle. She's doing it with nothing more than a lot of lippy and a wide grin and she looks fantastic. That's telling them!

Do It Like This

Salut Philippe Croizon! Put him up on the tallest pedestal so we can all bow before him. This is a man with no arms or legs, who is unable to brush his own teeth, wipe the snot from his nose or the tears from his eyes. Yet he has just swum the Channel in 13 hours.

This is a man who lost his limbs in an horrific accident. He suffered an electric shock taking an aerial from a roof. Who could bear the helplessness ? Not many.

Philippe was 26 when the worst happened, in the prime of life. This weekend he tackled his incredible challenge in a snorkel and flippers. Swimming alongside him were three dolphins, happy to keep him company. They are seen as a sign of good luck.

With courage like this who needs luck? Since his accident 16 years ago Philippe has also made a parachute jump and written a book called Jai Decide de Vivre or I Decided to Live. He shows us the way.

Sizzling sex? It's in the bag

How to spice up the sex life? Let's slather on the Brasso, wrap up in cling film and hang upside down from the door frame while getting whacked on the arse with a wet sock. Shove a soldering iron up the snozz. Or somewhere else. Why be fussy, it's all so much FUN.

What goes on in the wide world of sexual excitement is surely a wonder to behold. Got me gobsmacked. Why would anyone tidy the kitchen, strip off and squeeze into a North Face holdall. Why? What gave the GCHQ guy Gareth Williams the idea? Did he get back from a spying trip one day, look longingly at his luggage and think: "I would sooo love just to climb in there for a bit of me time!"

Is that what happens when your bags go missing at Heathrow? Somebody is having sex in your Samsonite? Is there a fan mag for folk who get into bags big time? Gives a whole new meaning to undo my zipper. Except that he couldn't. Undo the zipper that is, from the inside. An escape artist proved you need a sharp pen for the job, otherwise you suffocate. Gives you a huge high, the lack of oxygen. Before you die.

Sounds dangerous to me. Going to have to stick to the boring old bin-bags, oranges and fishnet tights. With a dead goldfish and a Pritt Stick. Bring it on!

Eternal Youth in a Tub

Eat ice cream and stay young - just who's pulling whose tiddler here? And the science seems so solid! Well, that's alright then, we can all scoff tubloads of the stuff in the doo-lally belief that we will all be eternal teenagers.

Unilever is working with scientists in the sunshine state of California, land of botox bimbos, to bring us the technology. It's all based on anti-oxidants. Supposed to help slow down the ageing process. They are everywhere, especially in fresh fruit and veg.

That doesn't float the boat for some. They'd rather have their creamy complexion from a plastic tub. Stuff your face or slap it on, it's all the same to them. The bad news is that the ice-cream will be at least five years in the making. Maybe by then we will all have come to our senses. Doubt it.

Mates, Dates, Pets and Plants

Gain a lover lose a friend - just tell us what we don't know! Big brains have been studying this one and it's come as a huge surprise. "We have quite literally only just discovered it," says Prof. Robin Dunbar of Oxford. Where has he been hiding?

He reckons we have six close friends and lose a couple with every relationship. What about Facebook? Social networkers beg to differ. They must have at least 100. My tally would be be embarrassing. That's because old school mates crawling out of the woodwork shouting "Reunion!" send me rushing to the garden shed. Some pals are part of the past for a reason. Dumped, pure and simple. Don't need to meet up to compare kids, careers, or wrinkles.

Sound harsh? Sorry, but that's life. Mind you, I'm quite the party animal compared to the prof who says our friends don't have to be real people. A pet, a soap star or even a plant will do. Aspidistra or Avatar, it's all the same to him.

Georgie Porgie Doing Porridge

George Michael's waking up in a prison cell today. Probably sitting there signing autographs.Chances are he's in for a cushy number because he'll only do four weeks of the eight week stint he got for crashing his car while stoned on cannabis. Didn't stop the fans weeping outside the court.

Wonder if he is crying now? I met him as a young guy on the edge of the big-time. He was sitting in his white, fluffy dressing gown - really ! - in his mum's house in Bushey, Hertfordshire. Didn't speak a word. Not because he was having some sort of hissy fit but because he had a sore throat and was supposed to rest it, so he had to write his answers down. Slowed the flow a bit.

George was one of the prettiest boys I'd clapped eyes on , but I reckon his interests lay elsewhere. Certainly had talent, but the next time I saw him he in the bar at a Rolling Stones gig, all on his lonesome nursing a pint. Hardly looked the superstar.

Maybe prison will sort his demons. Help him see his way forward because there can't be much further to fall.

Gaga's Slaughterhouse Chic

Lady Gaga's prancing about like a sausage in search of a frying pan! Was that meat outfit real - or just a clever look-alike? How did they sew it together? And, if it was real , what about the SMELL!!! Fresh raw meat has it's own special ambience. Eau de abattoir. Slapped up against a hot human body it would surely start to assert itself?

Did seem to be a waste of a good meal, but as a veggie I'd go for lettuce leaves. Each to his own. Raw steak in the hair might be brilliant for condition or bloody awful.

The Gaga was apparently making a point about women being treated like meat on a slab. Fair play to her. But why did the outfit have to be so short, so clingy and with frilly bits of fat decorating the crotch area like so much expensive lace? It was actually quite glam in a car crash sort of way. Doubt if it will catch on. We won't be raiding the butchers for scrag end of lamb or a nice bit of belly pork any time soon.

Couple of Northern Lights

Scallywags and shysters the lot of them! The Northern lasses have been flushed down the netty by their men again. Cheryl Cole dumped her husband only to see her brother in court today accused of robbing a post office. Armed robbery! Is there not enough cash swilling around in that family that he takes a gun to get his giro?

Gorgeous Cheryl mixes with the rich and famous but she can't choose her kin. "Sorry wor lass!" is unlikely to cut it. Andrew Tweedy will be weeping into his pint of Newcie Broon as he kisses goodbye to that Ferrari he fancied for Christmas.

What about Colleen? Some might argue it's better he paid for it, rather than start up a meaningful relationship. Some might. Whatever, the girls will be fine. They are both beautiful and well able to earn their own cash. Do we feel sorry for them? Are you kidding?

Firth Film Speaks Volumes

Colin Firth is making a film about stammering. Thank God we won't have to hear him sing! Or maybe we will. Sometimes people who struggle to speak try to sing it instead.

Should be hilarious. Anyone who says they haven't fought the giggles as someone wey-heys and barks while clawing desperately for consonants is lying through their smooth-talking teeth. It IS funny, in a horrible, gut-clenching, embarrassing sort of way. Comedy would be dead if nobody poked fun any more.

But I bet this is one of the bravest films we'll watch this year. The King's Speech is already winning standing ovations and is tipped for a Best Picture Oscar. Haven't seen it yet but I hope it wins. Everyone who goes out there every day and carries on trying while we hide our smiles behind our hands deserves a medal or at least our understanding. Nice one Colin.

Bombs Making a Come Back

Shambolic being our middle name, how did we ever win the war? Only ask because a guy has found an unexploded grenade in his garden, a relic from a British PoW camp. Ignoring the fact that the bozo was hell-bent on defusing it himself - being a plumber he considered himself qualified - how did a live grenade end up in one of our camps?

Did we search these lads before offering them home comforts for the duration of the conflict? Plenty have fond memories of working on local farms and the Italians even left their dopey graffiti, "hello I love you." Ever the romantics.

The RAF came to the rescue of metal detector man, no harm done. Which could so easily not have been the case for little Brendan Shannon, 8, who found a bomb dumped in his playground and took it in for show and tell. Loyalists have apparently claimed responsibility. Are they proud of themselves?

Dave and Ed Head to Head

David, Ed, Balls and all - who really gives a toss about the Labour lot? Does anyone give a monkeys who gets it? Life in the Milliband household must be fraught though. "Now boys behave - stop bashing your brother with that cricket bat!" Must go on all the time.

The lads both want it so badly. Why? What chance has either of them got of getting a look in, with Dave and Cleggie running the shop? Then there's Ballsie saying he was the real brains and Gordon glowering in the backround, monumental intellect and all. Sometimes think they are all wafting about cloud cuckoo land thinking they still matter and that we are all really, really excited about it all. Frankly the contents of my ear canal would be a lot more fascinating.

formula for Fun

That's blown it! Today I learned I'm too old to win a medal for maths. Damn! Left it too late. You have to be under 40 to win a Fields medal from the International Mathematical Union. Nobody told me. They didn't shout about that one, did they?

Young Arran Fernandez is 15 and he starts at Cambridge this month, after a stonking performance in his A levels. He has plenty of time, getting GCSE A* out of the way when he was five. I was still playing with teddies and mud pies at that age. Big mistake.

Why this rush to do everything so young? Most of us will live two-thirds of our lives after the age of 30. Not all of that will be spent drooling or running down cats with the mobility scooter. Brilliant French mathematician Evariste Galois was killed aged 20 in a fight over a woman. A bit older and he'd have walked away from that one. Working on the probability that there would be another along soon.

It's possible to be young, gifted, a whiz at maths and daft as a brush. Good luck to Arran, hope he gets the prize, but be even better if he has a totally amazing time.