I DON’T even like wire coat hangers. Why, then, are they taking over my life? I can hear them in the wardrobe at night, jingling quietly together. Like chains. I think they’re plotting. I never buy wire coat hangers. No one does. They must be teleported into our wardrobes in the dead of night by the crazed staff in dry-cleaning shops, who are even more sick of them than we are. And I’m not surprised. They’re not good for anything, least of all hanging coats on. Oh, they’re handy if you want to make a framework for the angel’s wings your daughter is going to wear in the annual nativity…

Why do old people give advice to young people? Because we know more? Wrong. Because we have more experience? Because we have made all the mistakes and we’re getting it right now? Cobblers! I know I’ve said this before, but you only have to sweep your eyes over the globe and catch a glimpse of Iraq, the Sudan, the Gaza Strip and, oh yes, our own election, to realise that grown-ups haven’t learned a blind thing. Now it’s been confirmed by the news this week that the only voters who are sticking with John Howard are the grey ones. This wouldn’t be so bad if it were because they were…

I SUPPOSEI could read another book. Trouble is, it’s a bit like watching television, but without the remote control,; and I’m really, really over television. I threw it out. I have been living alone now for five months, ever since my wife decided she wanted to live alone. It was tense for a while, and then I thought… well I’ll show her. Let’s see how she likes a dose of her own medicine! And she does. That wasn’t supposed to happen; but since it has I just to have to deal with it. I could read another book. Trouble is, they have happy endings, and I can’t handle those at…

EVERY day I receive about 150 emails. This is not because I’m popular. Well, it is because I’m popular, but not with anyone who knows me. I get emails from complete strangers. I don’t mind this. I am open-minded about making new friends. Not these friends. I have emails from people who want to sell me Viagra (which, if you are not aware, is the ultimate cure for impotency, which I don’t have); from Nigerians who want to send me $50 million, if I’ll just give them my bank account details; from people who want to sell me genuine Rolex watches for $25, or introduce me to a sweet Russian…

DO you rinse? Or do you risk serious mutation by eating from plates and cutlery that have been marinaded in washing-up liquid? I don’t know what the after-effects might be, but I suspect the very least one could expect would be a sparkling lower intestine. Maybe that’s a good thing. I must stress that, as a young man, we didn’t rinse. I must have swallowed more detergent — mopped up from my plate with the cornflakes or the stew — than I have since swallowed beer. “Well it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm,” I hear you say. Ask my wife. My ex-wife. She may have a different…