Ian O'Doherty: Not so clever after all
As regular readers will know (and by 'regular readers' I'm assuming that you must be in some secure institution and the only column you're allowed to read is mine), the wife was rather sick over the Christmas period.
As a result of this sickness, (trust me, never let anyone tell you that men make the worst patients) she wasn't able to spend any Christmas time with her family down the country.
So she was only well enough to venture rural last week, which left me to my own devices – a situation which, as every man alive knows, seldom ends well.
And then, the day before she was due to return home, I loftily informed her that while she was away I had been a busy little beaver – hoovering, getting rid of the residual Christmas rubbish and all the other stuff.
It was complete hogwash, of course. In fact, when I told her that, the sitting room looked like a bomb had hit it.
But I had a plan. Because I am a clever clogs.
I was going to work from home, then when I was finished I would start doing the cleaning that I had already claimed was done.
That fiendishly cunning plan worked perfectly until I finished the column, press send and. . . the screen went blank and the laptop went on strike.
Cue a frenzied, panic-ridden hike into the office, followed by another equally stressful journey home to try to get the place vaguely fit for human habitation before she came home.
I was talking about this to a friend the other day and he remarked that I better not put this into the column because the wife would go mad.
Until he paused and then said. . .
"Actually, you'll be grand. Sure she never reads that shite anyway."
Well, let's hope he was right, eh?
Set your faces to stunned
Apparently MTV's reality show The Valleys was one of the crassest, coarsest and most vulgar shows ever made.
Of course, in the morally bankrupt world of reality telly, they would probably take that as a compliment and a ringing endorsement.
But it looks like it has been eclipsed by Channel 4's What Happens In Kavos (pictured).
This show, following the sexploits of a bunch of priapic Brits on holidays on the notorious island, has drawn record complaints after the last episode featured people drinking mugs of urine (and not even their own wee, which just makes it weird and wrong).
Other shots included a bunch of lads going to the local doctor to check for STIs and in one particularly moving and touching scene, a guy has to go to hospital because he has, ahem, injured his manhood while wooing a young lady.
Sounds like your average Fianna Fáil Ard Fheis, if you ask me.
Well, that's one way to earn a few quid
So, a TV company approaches you and offers to do a complete makeover of your house.
They will pay for all the materials; they will pay you a handsome fee for the project and all you have to do is turn up on camera a few times and say how lovely it all looks.
Seems like a good deal, does it not? Indeed, it is a good deal – after all, you get your gaff done up for free and walk away with a big cheque in your pocket.
Unless you're Lindsay Lohan, that is.
She signed up for Celebrity Make Over in the United States, got her place done up – and then refused to film any scenes, leaving the programme unfinished. And now, in a quite brilliant piece of celebrity madness, she has removed all the bright new furniture and has it in hiding, whereupon she plans to auction it off to pay her tax bills.
You have to say, regardless of what you might think about the woman, there's never a dull moment on Planet Lindsay. . .
Um, hello pot. Have you met kettle?
I know she has mellowed and I know people who are friends of hers, but I have never liked Sharon Osbourne.
She is loud and crude and while she was undoubtedly dignified during her cancer battle, there is always the impression that if her mask slipped the world would see a very different person.
And she hit the news last Friday when she came out and slammed Lady Gaga for being a "bully."
Ma Osbourne duly went bonkers and lambasted the meat-dress-wearing singer for her bullying ways.
All of that would be fine until you remember that Sharon Osbourne once famously sent a box of her own poo to a musician she was in feud with.
Funny, they never mentioned that notorious incident when she was on The X Factor.
And the secret word is . . . argghhh!
When I finally take power over this country (and it will be a bloody and horrific transformation, none of your bloodless coups for me), I will forcibly prevent the public sector from going on strike.
And a perfect example of why this Draconian policy is fitting came the other day with the news that 91pc of Bus éireann's SIPTU membership voted for a nationwide strike.
So, they are unhappy with their working conditions (join the queue buddy, do you know anyone who is happy with their working conditions?) so they are going to. . . prevent other people from going to work.
Honestly, Reagan had the right idea – when American air traffic controllers went on strike he simply sacked them and got other people.