I had resolved to stop writing up my diary, and then some irascible old trout gets into the back. It’s 6 o’clock in the evening and she asks “Baker Street”, now if somebody says “London Bridge” I don’t drop them off halfway across the River, I naturally assume they want the station. So after she has watched me head for Baker Street Station she waits until I stop outside the station to tell me she wants the Sherlock Holmes Hotel and then accuses me of being “A wrong’un”.

I’ve just seen a man riding a customised bike up Tottenham Court Road with two children on board, one in front of the handlebars the other as a pillion passenger, none wearing head protection, and no rear lights in the dark.

What’re the chances? Twice in a week, I’ve had a job right out to Richmond. Went to the same expensive road both times, they lived 6 doors away from each other.

Some dozy twat of who went under the grand name of the junior Lib Dem Business Minister once seriously suggested that all verbal undertakings offered by tradesmen to their customers should be enforceable by law and to that end, the customer should record this on their mobile phone as evidence. It means that if Ms Jo Swinson’s proposal makes it to the Statute Book I could be prosecuted if I tell a punter “Hop in, Guv, I’ll get you to the airport in 30 minutes”, and the Westway is jammed solid.