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THERE’S a lot to do on a Tuesday – work, children, determinedly not drinking – and an inept eating-out costs valuable scrolling time. Use these tips and you’ll soon be accepting Best Simulated Orgasm with a tearful speech:

‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life,’ said Doctor Samuel Johnson. He didn’t mention what happens when you tire of Uttoxeter, his home town. Presumably its infinite delights cannot be exhausted.

WAKING with a hangover so intense it has caused the internet to crash across central London, I reflect on the events of the past week, particularly my ongoing involvement with Songs Of Praise. 

SO that's it, babes. My time as the Doctor is done. I'm packing up my sonic screwdriver and getting the hell out of there while the going is good, babes.

MANY a hit show has changed its lead actor. So cheap 60s sci-fi show Doctor Who believed they could replace theirs, and it would be no big deal.

You left your office job, and as a parting gift they gave you the full-sized freestanding fourth floor colour photocopier.

WAKING up with a hangover so intense the beating of my temples is loud enough to make people start dancing on the lawns beneath my chambers, I reflect on a somewhat disconcerting week. 

VACLAV Havel. Aung San Suu Kyi. Nelson Mandala. All prisoners who became their country’s leader. I am privileged to present the next: Mrs Lucy Connolly.

There's a man down Gandalf's chip shop swears he's Elvish.

WAKING with a hangover that has caused my urine to turn violet, I reflect on an event I hosted this week in which delegates of the Church met leading humanists and atheists to find common ground.