WHO DOESN'T WANT TO BE A MILLIONAIRE???

Well, don't you? Sadly, there are very few individuals that are going to become millionaires by answering questions on Chris Tarrant's T.V. show. Let's face it, most of the contestants are thick as the proverbial two short ones.

There was a glimmer of hope last night, as a not unpleasant looking youth took to the chair after his flying finger was fastest first.(try saying that after a few tinctures). He was a tax inspector, well it's a crap job, but someone has to do it and he was wearing a long sleeved shirt - my criterion for going out in public, other than to the beach, though why jackets have been abandoned I'll never understand. Anyway, VATman disappointed on all fronts. 'Who starred in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho?' 1.Janet Leigh 2.Marilyn Monroe 3. Grace Kelly 4. Tippi Hedren. "Oh a bit before my time, Chris", he guffawed like a hyena with indigestion. So what did this moron think he was going to be asked questions on, the year 2000 to the present day. He phoned his old school teacher,a virtual fountain of knowledge on all things quizzical, according to our would be oligarch. Lamentably, this educator was not able to answer the question. One wonders how the tax man passed the exams necessary to gain employment with the Inland Revenue, with teachers like that. He didn't know it was Janet Leigh. I ask you!!

Of course, there are people who have won the million on offer, some by fair means, some by foul. We remember the galloping major and his throat clearing friend who cheated their way to the loot by way of series of strategically timed coughs. Then there was Judith Keppel, descended from the Mrs Keppel, significant other of King Edward VIIth and relation of Camilla Parker-Bowles, now signifcant other of Price Charles.
She was unusual for a quiz show other than Mastermind, because she was a nob, and spoke proper and turns out she lives in Fulham and designs gardens. Chris was foaming at the mouth as he asked her about her herbatious borders. She wasn't that clever really, just lucky. She had happened to be 'en vacances' en France that summer and had visited the tomb of Margarite of Anjou (who she?) and wouldn't you know, that was the million pound question. All I can say is, she should get out more. Who spends a summer in France going round some smelly old catacombs? A lady of a certain age who lives in Fulham I hear you cry? What was wrong with a tour of the vineyards, a quick grapple with the waiter and all you can drink for 50 Francs. (7 Euro).

They have made the questions harder now, so there is absolutely no chance of any of these ill-equipped competitors ever winning more than £150,000. In fact some even have trouble with your name please - maybe becuse it was multiple choice - and go home with a couple of grand, if that.


Luckily for Chris Tarrant, the only question he needed to answer was would he like to present the show. A no-brainer. I don't suppose he had to ask the audience, phone a friend or take a 50% cut on his pay check. Jammy bastard.

GRAB ME A BAG !!!

My how we laugh at the story of the glam raiders, who smash and grab sackfulls of what is known as very expensive arm candy - and I am not talking candy canes here, but mind bogglingly priced handbags, designed by some poor men and women with delusions of competence. This gives a new meaning to the expression 'Bag Man' and has nothing to do with Jeffrey Archer.

Apparently, these clever and daring thieves bone up on their market research on ebay and then drive their scooters into the appropriate shop windows and zoom off with their swag, perhaps in a designer suitcase.

The shop owners, understandably distressed cry, 'oh, they must have been stolen to order, there is a waiting list for those'. I always thought waiting lists were for operations - replacements hips, livers, kidneys, and hearts, - not handbags.

Glance over this price list if you will.
The Stam - named after a model Jessica Stam (who she?) £760
The Lautner - £555
The Bernie - £535
and these are the cheapies. Designer bags can go for as much as £15,000 I kid you not.

Don't you think that is a bit obscene for a few bits of leather, a length of lavatory chain from your nearest builders' merchants and a few curtain rings from John Lewis?

So who are buying these bags? Obviously they have too much money. I don't see anything wrong in using a nice durable plastic carrier bag from Woolworths, or perhaps a Marks and Spencer one for evenings and maybe for very special occasions, a Selfridges yellow one. Much cheaper and easy to ring the changes.

I await news of the latest designer bag theft. Medical supply stores know they are safe displaying designer colostomy bags in their windows - you can never find a pair of shoes that match!!

NIGELLA THE TANK ENGINE!!

Nigella Express - Nigella the Tank Engine more like. She is certainly piling on the pounds with those quick and snappy meals, shopped for in Waitrose, Eaton Square Branch and Wholefoods of Kensington, but cooked in a South London Studio pretending to be her smart London home. Like Maggie May of the song,( the original, not the Rod Stewart deflowerer), her assets certainly swayed from side to side. Not even her denim jacket (dark denim, more slimming) could conceal her vast bulk.

Now don't get me wrong, I used to adore Nigella. she was my food guru. I have all her books - not the cake one, why bake while Mr Kipling is still alive, nor this latest effort, but all the others. I have lived by her recipes, hung on her every word, marvelled at her shiny hair and her fortitude in the face of adversity, seen her meet with triumph and disaster (oops! that's another Mr Kipling) and congratulated her on a speedy marriage to her late husband's best friend - and a millionaire too - how lucky can you get? But I am drawing the line at this latest effort.

I mean, why is Nigella so busy that she doesn't even have time to stuff a mushroom? she has to rush around in a London Taxi, shopping and rush back to knock up a fabulous meal for what look like the T.V crew, in less time than it takes for me to put the cat out. No sign of hubby Lord Charles, just the usual suspects oohing and aahing over the menu.

Rather like the fascination of the snake for the mongoose, I was compelled to watch tonight's programme. Maybe she might have turned off the technicolour smile, dropped the kindergarden teacher explanations or at the very least, lost a few kilos since last week, but no, she is still as ghastly as ever. What has turned this once glam and appealing woman into a Blue Peter presenter. Who know's the secret of the Black Magic Box? Nigella does, she just ate it.

And so to the food. All I can say is I am glad no invitations to 'supper' have been forthcoming, because I would not want to eat the muck she served up tonight. Two bowls of sick, one green, one white, surrounded by tortilla chips, some yellow, some blue ( what is the point of those I ask you?).
Followed by Margarita ice cream. Yes, you heard me correctly, Margarita ice cream. Take half a bottle of Tequila (luckily without the worm), half a bottle of Cointreau, a pint of double cream, a kilo of icing sugar and pass the sick bag please. What were you thinking, girl?

I switched off before the end. I couldn't bear to see her making a midnight raid on the fridge in a pair of voluminous parachute silk pyjamas. How are the fallen mighty!!