Part of my everyday routine is the search for suitable paid employment. Not everyone realises that of course. Many assume I'm a lazy layabout who wants to lay in bed all morning, lay in the sun all afternoon, and lay comatosed on a park bench all night.

Not for me. Lazing about is more or less as boring as owning a cheap japanese hatchback and spending my free time wearing a grey suit just for fun. To be honest searching for a job isn't really any more enjoyable. It's just that I know you're allowed to have fun after you do your daily chores. Better still, they pay you do it. So browse the endless list of employment opportunities and find that perfect job!

Right, I'm finished. Time to go back to the real world. I stopped in the programme centre foyer to sign myself out and escape the clutches of employment training. All of a sudden, a conversation erupted at the reception desk. Some grey bloke in a grey suit made a loud comment about global warming. It sounded a bit daft. You what, mate?

He was looking at me. Straight at me. Then he turned away and continued talking to a bemused receptionist about mink farming. Meanwhile, he pointedly ignored me, before he stomped off leaving the receptionist as bewildered as I was. My initial thought was that wearing a grey suit does not disguise a wierdo. Then I thought he rude he was.

Finally, some time around half past seven last night, during a boring bit in an old Top Gear episode (Sorry guys, but hatchbacks are boring, by definition, much like grey suits), I realised it was supposed to be a lesson. Apparently the greyer you are the more likely people in grey suits will think you're one of them and include you in their strange prayer meetings on global warming. Lesson learned.

But then, he was rude. I hope he has some military surplus or leather jackets in his wardrobe, otherwise I'll have to exclude him from my spiritually pure discourses on the cultural significance of eighties heavy metal the next time we meet.

Good Deed For The Day

If you lost your gloves in a Swindon supermarket yesterday, fret no more because I found them, and handed them to the lady on the tills. See? You don't need a grey suit to be a nice person.

Psychic Television

Almost everyday I get a message popping up on my television when I switch it on. Sometimes it's about the mandatory switchover to digital transmissions due in September. More usually it's that I have a new channel ready for my edification and delight. All I have to do is press a certain button on my remote control unit and the channel will be mine.

Well whaddya know? Psychic TV. Is that a pointless channel or what? I mean, if you're actually psychic, why would you need television to know everything about world events or the latest fashion in grey suits? As it happens the presenter was asking the audience to phone in with questions. Nothing potentially contentious or even relevant allowed. All they want is pointless tittle tattle. I wonder if I should ask whether buying a gey suit will aid me in my quest for world domination?

"We've only got ten minutes left." She said to the camera urgently. How did she know that? How did she know? Incredible.