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!