The weatherman said it would rain early this morning but clear later. I won't ignore such advice and although the map looked encouraging with disappearing blue areas, this is rainy old Swindon after all. So when I got up I glanced between the curtains and behold, the rain has indeed stopped. Brill. Now I can go about my business safe and secure in the knowledge I won't get wet. By now you've probably guessed what's going to happen.

Congratulations, you guessed correctly. I was of course completely misled. Once out the front door it bucketed down. Luckily the library isn't too far away and I arrived with only a mild soaking and a humourous appraisal from one of the librarians. Yes. You're right. I am soaking wet. Thanks for the observation.

An hour later and the sun has broken through the clouds outside. Such is life in the rainforest of Darkest Wiltshire.

Fashion Statement of the Week

The numbers of dole claimants who've been claiming for more than twelve months (me included) has grown to such ridiculous proportions that the lady responsible for signing us on has been sweating with a lengthening queue of impatient people. The guy next to me, about twice my size and looking like a refugee from a football terrace, starting muttering complaints and dark curses. Sadly his latent aggression didn't help him one bit.

Whilst waiting though I looked up and down at the various lazy and lame claimants. Many of them have the fashionable shaved head and wollen jacket, a sort of 'hard-man' uniform these days, and one guy turned up in unwashed clothes two sizes too big for him. Either they aren't paying him enough to eat, or he has contracted the terrible shrinking disease that also coincidentially afflicts my mother.

One chap stood out a mile. A young asian lad, in a colourful leather jacket, sparkling white trainers, and a white head scarf. To be honest, whilst he clearly wants to look like an urban terrorist, he also looked ridiculous. You need to be the right sort of character to wear clothes in that fashion (usually only black guys have the necessary cool) and he was, without doubt, in street parlance, a poser. He's also an idiot because clearly he's got money in his pocket and claiming benefits looking like that is bound to arise suspicion.

Apparently not. He sailed through his interview and left smiling, looking about to register our admiring glances. I on the other hand make the mistake of wearing clothes I can afford, thus I look downbeat and therefore remain a potential victim of claim-advisor zealousy. There is no longer any doubt. The key to success in life is to have ultra clean expensive trainers.