2005-07-23 - 10:12 a.m.

I had meant to write about this for a while, but have been too busy being sick at the thought of it. For God's sake, you weirdo, are you that desperate? I know your choices are limited. I know you tell yourself you're doing it for love. I know you'll deny manipulating a poor lonely, vulnerable soul. But for goodness' sake, woman, look at his teeth!

Sorry to bother you mate, but...didn't James Bond electrocute you in Moonraker?

"They have discussed the age gap and come to terms with the fact that they can never have children and grandchildren." No! She's not so much a Trophy Wife as Atrophy Wife. Still, at least those of us, I mean, er, you, who rely on the age-old 'mentally recite the England World Cup '66 team' method of delaying sexual climax now have an alternative. Just imagine Argos Richard Kiel and Granny Fanny going at it hammer and tongs. In the Greek style.

Can I have that sandwich if you're not eating it?

I took this picture in a market in Harare.

Oh, wait a minute, no. It was on a stall in Hammersmith Broadway, in the First World's London. Apparently the new epicentre of freaky juju. I walked round to the other side of the stall, half expecting to see:

But what I really like is the fact that this was on a 'sale' notice.
"You off into town, Carol?"
"Yes. I need to pick up some aubergine and pancetta for Sunday. And some human hair."
"Oh, you should go to That Voodoo That You Do in Hammersmith Broadway for the hair. They've got a sale on."
"Really?"
"Three strands for the price of two. How's the skin suit coming on by the way?"

Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude