Sunday afternoon. Brain bit slowish.

The following TV adverts have made me worry slightly about whether I missed some serious tectonic shift in modern-day society, possibly while asleep or reading comics.

1) "It's bad enough when your home smells of fish..." (Febreze) - A daily problem for, I fear, all of us, everywhere. Even those whose name doesn't contain the word "fish".

2) "For the woman who isn't yet ready for cosmetic surgery.." (Olay or something) - Obviously I'm having it, just not yet. Maybe when I'm really ugly and, say, aged 23 or something gross and haggy.

3) Is it acceptable for Ainsley Harriott to yell "Shit! Shit!" at his basset hound on primetime TV? (Fairy Powertabs) - Just a quibble.

4) And how deeply sad is it when the best thing a french car manufacturer can find to say about their new car is that it could be mistaken for a BMW if you squint at it sideways and ignore the badge?

Sunday afternoons chez Fishwife always fall into the same pattern - Sunday papers, buckets of tea, "Countryfile" for Mr Fishwife (who I suspect may have adopted John Craven as his Silver Fox Older Man Role Model - why not George Clooney? - You may well ask), 15 hours of Frasier repeats or "Singin' In The Rain" for me, and cheese toasties for lunch thank to my best ever Christmas present. I feel it's a sign of huge intelligence and lateral thinking to take a health-promoting gadget like the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grillin' Machine and use it to make oozingly fatty cheese and ham toasties.