"Ahhh... Caldrail... We meet again." Miss R always smiles when it's time for me to be interviewed. There's always a plastic ruler on her desk. "We've got you a vacancy to apply for."

It's hard to be enthusiastic. Not because I have to find work, but because I've already found 25 suitable vacancies under my own steam since we last spoke. I have to smile and accept it though. Applying for this extra one is mandatory under the new rules. I read the information sheet and as it happens, the job was more or less something I could do without much worry. There's no problem with that.

"Have you given any thought to what you want to do?" She asked me. Now there's a question. I know the government is keen on getting unemployed people back to work, but worrying about career prospects at my age seems a little futile. I might only have another twenty years.

"You might might die tomorrow." She corrected me. Heck. I hadn't figured on my lifespan being that short. Found dead with ruler marks all over me? I can see the headlines now. There'll be paperback books printed for decades discussing the mystery plastic ruler death of Swindon 2011.

I held the information sheet up. Shall I wait another day before applying for this?

Big Brother Rules

Just when you thought it was safe to back to the television we find another series of Big Brother is coming our way. They've built a new house for the new series and brought in some presenter to replace that other woman. Can't remember her name. She did some beauty product advertising.

I think I might have better things to do than watch idiots try to recreate human social behaviour from scratch. I can see that sort of thing outside my front window any day of the week.

Thanks, Jeremy!

Top gear is proving a fertile source of controversy. A mole at the BBC has suggested that professional drivers do all their filming with the presenters doing the chatty bits inside the cockpit seperately. In the news is Jeremy Clarkson's dismissal of those accusations and understandably he's a tad irate about the idea that the presenters can't drive.

Interestingly though Mr Clarkson has laid down a challenge, saying that if anyone doesn't believe that he drives Lamborghini's at 207mph then they can come along and see for themselves. Bring a sickbag, he writes. Yeah? Really? All right then. Mr Clarkson can't drive Lamborghini's. There. Accusation made. I await my invitation to Dunsfold. Hey, I don't make the rules. Or do I?

The Rule Of Caldrail

Sometimes people think I take myself too seriously. Clearly they haven't read this blog then. Thing is though I'm finding life a bit spooky. In the wake of the riots Britain suffered a week ago, politicians keep on suggesting policies suggested by me.

That leads me to some shocking conclusions. Firstly that politicians in our country are so desperate for ideas that they're using my blog as source of ideas, and secondly, that I'm almost running the country from the back seat. So, in order to prove this hypothesis, I hereby suggest to the government of the United Kingdom that schools take on a community role in shaping the behaviour of our young people.

Now sit back and wait for an announcement at a press conference by a senior politician.... Any moment now....