They say that your body is a temple, but that's obviously a load of old rot.
After all, if we're going to use buildings as descriptions of our bodies, then I'm not so much a temple but more a disused garage somewhere off the back of the M50.
But we're always looking for ways to improve our own appearance.
And the easier the method, then all the better.
That's why so many people use liposuction and stuff like that -- why do the hard work of exercising and dieting when you can simply go to a doctor who'll stick a tube in you and suck out all the fat?
But I was reading one interesting piece in this very newspaper yesterday which seemed to offer what is undoubtedly the most enjoyable way of losing weight you could imagine -- just watching horror films.
Apparently you burn calories when your stress levels are raised by scary movies. So, never needing much of an excuse, I went into my DVD collection and decided to give this new diet a go.
First I watched The Shining, which was as brilliant as ever. But no weight loss.
Then I watched my favourite film of all time, Jaws.
Still no weight loss.
Growing increasingly frustrated at this lack of a new, svelte like Iano, I turned to The McPherson Tapes, one of the most deeply unsettling films I've ever seen (check it out if you haven't already watched it).
Damn. Still the same weight.
So obviously it's just a myth that you can scare yourself thin.
Then I went through my post and opened my bank statement.
I immediately lost 10 pounds in a most gruesome and physically unpleasant way.
So I guess you can scare yourself into weight loss, after all.
Nurse! The sick bag, stat
Of all the iniquitous taxes we citizens have to pay, I definitely find the TV licence fee to be one of the most irritating.
I can't stand RTÉ at the best of times, and that's coming from someone who has plenty of friends who work out there.
But, you see, the funny thing is that they can't really stand the place either.
It's cliquish and blinkered and as we have seen from some of their recent scandals, the collective arrogance can be astonishing.
No, if it wasn't for the fact that Mrs iSpy insists on paying the licence fee on the grounds that a) she doesn't need the hassle of going to court and b) she's a grown-up and I'd never bother with it.
But I think even the wife's resolve to buy said licence reached its breaking point on Tuesday night.
That was because we happened to stumble across the appalling Katherine Lynch's Big Fat Breakfast Show where she adopts the persona of Traveller woman Bernie Walsh.
As fake chat shows go, it's about as much fun as sneezing while you have explosive diarrhoea -- not much fun at all.
Managing the almost admirable feat of being crushingly boring and deeply offensive at the same time, things reached a new low when Kerry Katona plopped herself on the sofa to be interviewed.
And guess what?
The drink, the drugs, the appalling reality shows that she did -- none of it was her fault.
No, it was all the fault of those nasty men she hooked up with and nothing to do with her, your honour.
Honestly, with Katherine Lynch and Kerry Katona on the same show, I doubt a single judge in the land would convict anyone for refusing to pay their bloody licence.
Oh, as regards the headline -- can someone please explain to me what the medical term 'stat!' means?
Ah, the price of fame
Honestly, I'm actually beginning to scare myself.
When the missus started to watch The X Factor a few weeks ago I would loftily snort and make a point of reading something improving and intellectual instead. Something posh like Ross O'Carroll-Kelly or something.
But dagnabit, I've begun to actually pay attention and I hate myself for that.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not paying attention in an interested way -- no, it's more out of a twisted sense of appalled fascination. I mean, just how deluded can some people be? After all, for most of the contestants on the show they have grown up with it, so it's not as if they don't know what the deal is.
Just take singer Lucy Spraggan.
She seems to have positioned herself as the 'credible' character on this season's show and has threatened to leave the show if she is forced to sing any more cover versions.
If you want to be seen as a credible artist then I would have thought that going The X Factor route would be the last thing you'd want to do.
After all, how can Uncle Simon make money from you if you're not singing cover versions?
Really, Lindsay. You sure about that?A mate of mine lived in New York for most of the last 10 years and only returned recently. But while he may have come back to Ireland, I suspect that New York will always be where he feels spiritually most at home.
He was talking to a native New Yorker the other day about the hurricane and she was simply dismissing Sandy.
It was nothing, she sniffed. Sure she just stocked up on some DVDs, a pizza and plenty of beer and rode the whole thing out. In fact, all she saw was a bit of wind and rain.
It was only when my pal pointed out that what she had experienced was just a bit of wind and rain, because the hurricane hadn't actually hit landfall yet that she copped on to the fact that she had got the days wrong -- which I'm sure you will all agree qualifies as a classic 'D'oh!' moment.
But my favourite comment on Sandy came from the always reliable Lindsay Lohan.
Speaking from the safety of LA, 3,000 miles away, she wrote: "WHY is everyone in SUCH a panic. Stop projecting negativity! Think positive and pray for peace."
Ah yes, hundred mile an hour winds, massive flooding, dozens of deaths, tens of billions of dollars of damage and the biggest disruption to the city since 9/11.
But hey, if we all hold hands and think positive thoughts, then it'll all be okay.
I can only imagine what the average Noo Yoiker's response to that inanity would be.