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WAKING up with a hangover so intense it is as if my brain has been replaced with a dead goat, I take an aspirin and several gallons of water and reflect on the week’s events. 

I LIKE to think of myself as a moral person. I was in the Brownies for many years, even earning a Helping the Elderly badge for cleaning out my grandma’s biscuit cupboard. 

SINCE childhood I’ve felt a deep connection to the gastropod. Who could forget those endless, dreamy summers sewing them together for an epic snail conga?

Is Don’t Look Now really such a classic? You followed the instructions and you didn’t see anything scary or Julie Christie’s tits.

WAKING with a hangover whose painful pulsing could be detected by the crew of the Artemis II spacecraft, I look back on another week in which a prominent politician sought my counsel. 

WAKING up with a post-Easter hangover whose size would make astronomers classify it as a dwarf planet, I take my customary dose of 48 paracetamol and reflect on the week’s events. 

Sure, if you pay peanuts you get monkeys, but before long they’ve typed you the complete works of Shakespeare. So monkey-wise it’s a mixed bag.

LEAVITT: There is no war because there’s no Iran, okay? It’s gone. It’s dust. So after three more weeks of strikes the US will withdraw.

WOMEN are proud, shy creatures, who keep their metaphorical cards close to their heaving chests. Has she come? Or not? Might you be offended if you ask?