As seen on screen

Okay, I was going to do some editing. I really was. But a dog ate my editing utensils. Who would've thought that the ridiculous lies which we generated as children would come to be so true and applicable in our adult lives. Those frigging dogs.

Also, because there is a natural link between the two, I can't stop yelling at adverts. I keep finding myself, fingers curls into fists, red in the face, swearing at the patronising, marketing ploys that they are. I'm sick of being accused as stupid by my own television. I think I'd be happy with a teleprompter which simply read 'product', 'price', 'possible reason for purchase.' So that you're happily munching away on your cereal as you read, 'Activia yoghurts, pretty extortionate considering how cheap they are to make/£2.57 for 6, For women who want to attempt more regular bowel movements.' Done. Dusted. Happy as that obscure reference of a man called Larry.

But what we do get, what the men and women in over tight jackets, inhaling coffee and bullshit do give us, is a series of simplistic analogies, which really have no bearing upon either the product itself, or its use in our lives, as Sarah from Liverpool jumps up and down on her bouncy castle/bank account with joy. Cue reality, us fuming outside Natwest, because like Royal Mail, they only exist at the most inconvenient of hours when no one really needs them.

Or the car that instantly means we can afford that luxurious mini break, and the elusive status we always wanted, and that model-esque girlfriend. From a Vauxhall Corsa hatchback. (All the more persuasive for the beautiful weather and the lyrics, 'What a nice day for a drive in the city.' Nothing better when the sun's out, stuck in traffic in a hot car.

Constantly force-fed make-believe, unattainable versions of life for morons, the equivalent of a man with a hovering fork of spaghetti making 'choo choo' noises as he zones in on your mouth. Well, you know where you can shove that spaghetti mate.

And don't even get me started on 'Icer, Icer baby.' I had to buy myself a present in order to get over the sheer horror of that advert, a 6 pack of Activia yoghurts.