THE GAMES LESSON

When you went to English or Maths class at school, you could reasonably expect the teacher to talk you through a Shakespeare play, explain the principals of algebra, be enigmatic as to why you'll ever need to know long division. But, when you went to the gym class, you were expected to already know everything before you got there. That's a tremendously daunting situation to put an 11 year old child in, especially if, like me, you don't come from a sports literate family.

At my school, they called that class Physical Education, but the emphasis was clearly more on the physical than the education. The games teacher would offer no quarter if you didn't know the rules of these games. You weren't given any clues about these things.

To this day, I don't know much about football or cricket or rugby. Am I supposed to have somehow imbibed this information through some kind of societal telepathy before I attended those classes?

"Football"? Well, I figure there's a ball and there are feet. Unless it's a 12 inch ball, of course, that's always a possibility. I don't know how far the goalie can move. I don't know who's offside. I don't know about the legal ways of tackling people. Hey, I don't even know who's on which side most of the time. Nobody's explained any of these things to me. Unless it involves my granddad in the backyard, I'm really at a complete loss here.

This is why the school geek is a standard of teenage films. It's not physical incompetence which makes these people bad at sports, it's just that no one ever explained the rules.

MY SCRUBS ALLUSION

In the advertisements, they say Superman fights "the never-ending battle", which sounds very romantic, but I've never really been sure what his never-ending battle is with. Finally, after years of reading Superman comics, I know what it is that he's battling with never-endingly.

Lift your computer keyboard on to its side, right now; slap it quite hard; turn the keyboard over.

What is all this junk that gets into the keyboard? Where is it coming from? I'm not being some clean freak here, but, no matter how often I wash my hands, the computer keyboard attracts whole chunks of detritus. When you clean it out it's like there's a whole civilisation at work inside.

The trouble with cleaning all that junk out is you can never stop once you've started. I figure that Superman's never-ending battle began as Clark Kent turning over the computer keyboard at his desk at the Daily Planet one day to clean it out a little...

MY DAY OF JUDGMENT

The high court judge seems like a pretty sweet gig because you get to wield that little hammer.

Every job would be made more bearable by the simple addition of the little hammer, I feel. With the hammer you get to set your own agenda. If you don't want to answer the phone, it's bang-bang-bang "let's have a recess for one hour." If the paperwork's mounting up you can just bang-bang-bang "I'll see everyone back here at 4 p.m." - take a walk in the park, go see a movie, the afternoon is yours.

It would be great for team meetings, too, wouldn't it? Your boss is raising points, talking about the business plan, pointing out where everyone needs to be and you get a little confused, a little lost. No need to embarrass yourself asking the boss to repeat the whole thing in front of everyone. It's just bang-bang-bang "Approach the bench." And they'd have to. It's the law.

He who wields the hammer runs the world, my friends. In the words of MC Gavel: "Gaveltime!"

THE SHERYL CROW QUANDARY

Where is Clark Kent changing into Superman these days? For years he would rush into a phone booth and change into his long johns when an emergency hit Metropolis - it's a classic image. But - come on, people - it's the 21st century. They are closing down the phone boxes wherever you look, ripping them out of the streets, paving over the places they used to stand. Everyone has a mobile phone these days - no one's using the phone booth anymore.

Changing in the telephone booth only really works when you can move at superspeed. Otherwise it's just kind of awkward and exhibitionist. You have to move very fast to change into your superhero costume in that confined space surrounded by glass - that's why the Superman outfit doesn't feature any buttons or zippers, they'd just slow him down.

Wonder Woman had the best costume change technique. She used to do that pirouette on the spot as Diana Prince and when the spin was finished she'd be in her Wonder Woman togs, checking to see that her tiara was on straight. Because, ideally, you want to rush into battle against a threat to mankind immediately after you've been spinning rapidly in one place. You're woozy, you're knocking stuff over, you could collapse at any moment.

Every episode of her show, Wonder Woman would turn up to save Steve Trevor's life after doing her quick change spin and he'd have that knowing smile that said, "This woman in the stars and stripes bathing costume keeps saving my life... I think I may be in with a chance here." I swear, nine times out of ten he was thinking she'd be a lot more attractive if she didn't drink so much.

THE UP-IN-SMOKE QUESTION

They only ever put the "keep away from fire and flames" label on items you associate with sleeping: duvets, pyjamas, nightdresses. Who are all these people who are sleeping while on fire? How many people had to do that before they decided to put the warning on the label?

They don't put it on other clothing, you'll notice. Jeans, shirts, jackets - these are all flame retardant, I guess, or they'd get the label on them, too, right? Must be. Really, there's no label there. Go check.

How warm do you need to be under that duvet anyway? If you're sleeping under a duvet, next to a raging fire - you're really not entering into the spirit of outdoor camping.

They should put more warning labels on clothes...

Warning: this top won't make you look 20 years younger, no matter how much belly it shows off.

Warning: This is made of that material that glows under ultraviolet light... just so you know.

Warning: No one can pull off the Bugs Bunny tie look. Really, just leave the shop. Walk away. Walk away now.

THE JOE SHUSTER SHOPPING EXPERIENCE

Psychologists say we should never shop when we're hungry. If you go to the supermarket while hungry, they tell us, you're likely to purchase lots and lots of food you don't really need. It is, in short, financial insanity.

I put this to the test once. I ran out of food in the house and didn't bother going to the supermarket while I was hungry. Eventually, I caved - went to the supermarket, bought lots of pointless and downright weird foodstuffs. I hadn't eaten properly, I was light-headed - I didn't know what I was doing.

Despite what the psychologists said, cocoa pops actually went well with a jacket potato and miniature candles. Mmmm, waxy.

THE JERRY SIEGEL SHOPPING EXPERIENCE

The supermarket is like going to an amusement park only to find all the rides are out of order. You're surrounded by all this great stuff to eat and drink, but you're not actually allowed to have any of it while you're there. It's like "Wha--? I can’t go on the teacup ride while it's raining? The bumper cars are out of order? Awwww man!"

Nobody in the supermarket looks happy. Personally, I like to smile when I'm shopping - I find it keeps the people around me off balance. Everyone else is all "They took down the Ferris Wheel?!" Me? I've got playstation at home - what do I care?!

WHICH CAME FIRST? #1

Danny DeVito or Oscar the Grouch?

THE EXERCISING CITY

Is public transport making Londoners unhealthy? This week, the Health Council have started a campaign highlighting that London city dwellers aren’t getting enough exercise. It seems that city types are more likely to make short journeys using public transport rather than walking. Which is true. It's so easy to whiz about London on the tube that sometimes you forget that, say, Oxford Circus and Tottenham Court Road stations are only about five minutes walk apart.

But using the tube doesn't equate to Londoners not exercising. If you ever see anyone on a train platform on a mobile phone, there's a good chance that they are exercising right there in front of you. Because, there's this little phone walk that people do: three steps forward, turn, five steps in the other direction, turn and repeat until the conversation ends.

I'm not sure if there's a name for this walk. It's very precise in its aimlessness - these are people who are really certain that they have nowhere to go, and they're doing their utmost to get there as quick as possible. It's kind of like waltzing, with those rigid steps there, except instead of whispering sweet nothings in your dance partner's ears you're shouting about nothing down the phone.

How much exercise city dwellers get depends primarily on the length of their phone conversations. The only variable factors are which tariff you're signed up for. The more free calls at the weekend you get - the more fit you'll be.

PAGING JENNIFER ANISTON ONCE MORE

If I ever take up a career in science, I'm going to work for the toothpaste manufacturers. Whenever you see their adverts, their laboratories are so clean. You could, quite literally, eat your dinner off of their work surfaces. They are immaculate.

And the staff - no one has a hair out of place, they all have freshly laundered white coats, all the women wear those huge 70s glasses like Lynda Carter in Wonder Woman. It is a paradise of science. Or maybe a Paradise Island of science, with the Lynda Carter thing.

It's not a laboratory as we understand it. There are no spills, no accidents, no fire hazards or untidy piles of paperwork. Every scientist in the toothpaste commercials looks like they got a good night's sleep, they're all very interested in everything that's going on.

"What is it we're doing today? Spearmint? Well, I'm getting a piece of that action!"

No one's bleary eyed. No one forgot to shave. There's no dishevelled hair, creased elbows on the coats. No one's had to pull an all-nighter for their latest discovery. It is scientists utopia.

There's a lot of pressure on the toothpaste guys to keep tidy, I guess. That's what their boss is ragging on them about.

"You ate a biscuit at your desk and dropped crumbs - you're fired! And you, with the coffee... you see that spill there? Get out. Out of my laboratory. And, hey, you - the broad without the 70s style glasses... how many times do I have to remind you - we do have a dress code in this place, sister."

MY FINANCIAL INSECURITY

I have money worries. I am living in a constant state of panic. I'm on edge, I'm shaking, I'm permanently concerned about my finances.

It is tremendously easy to borrow money these days. Every single day the newspapers are full of stories of credit card insanity, people borrowing money far beyond their means. We are actively encouraged by television advertising to borrow money to pay for a holiday we couldn't afford - go on, you haven't earned a break!

There are a wealth of TV programmes about people trying to curb their spending, financial consultants telling people to socialise less, to save more. There are even companies that are solely dedicated to loaning you money so that you can pay back the mess of other loans that you've already amassed.

However, none of this comes close to my problem. My problem is that I'm spending the money I have earned, not on a sixtieth pair of shoes, a holiday I don't deserve or some crazy shin-dig at a fancy club. No, I'm paying phone bills, travel expenses and magazine subscriptions, and I'm paying them all... on pre-pay.

Is there anything more stressful than the feeling you get with paying for stuff on pre-pay? You have twenty pounds on a travel card... what if it gets stolen or you lose it? These are future journeys you've already committed to. You have to use them. You must travel.

And the pre-pay phone - I'm never sure how long I should leave it before topping up the money available. I'm calling the advice number, getting the automatic text message. I have £3 left, I have £2 left, I've got £1.83... it's very tense. It's like those Wimbledon evening matches where they keep checking the skies to judge if it's light enough to continue playing. What happens if I have £2 worth of conversation when all I have on the phone is that £1.83? Should I top it up now? Or do I leave it, wait until I really, really need it?

The magazine subscription is the worst. You can’t remember what month it started, was it four weeks ago I got the last copy or was it five? Is there an issue out in the shops yet? Has my sub run out? They'd tell me, wouldn’t they?

I need to get back to the genuine pay-as-you-go world I used to inhabit as a child. I'd like three sweets, two comics and an ice pop - that's 70 pence. I'll pay for these items I have in my hand now, using money that I have with me here. I never once gave the owner of the corner shop all my pocket money in case I might want some sweets later in the week.

Pre-pay is being in debt to the future.

THE GREENER GRASS

All the homeless people I meet on the street really want is a steady income, a roof over their head, ready access to clean water and food. And yet, they're spending their days drinking alcohol out in the open air, with no responsibilities in their lives.

Strangely, I'm devoting my days to securing the steady wage for the food, the water, the roof over my head, and I'm spending my time thinking how great it would be to have no responsibilities and be able to just sit out in the open air drinking alcohol. And, I don't think I'm alone in this attitude.

What it boils down to is there are a lot of employed people out there suffering from "homeless envy".

KRUSTY 100

What is with this whole obsession with the round numbers? Everybody's rounding numbers up, rounding down, pursuing the round number at every opportunity.

Hey, it's 100!

It's 50!

It's 10!

I tell ya, it's freaking me out. Why are they round numbers? Is it that big circle at the end? The zero? Are we celebrating that big load of nothing on the end of these figures? Is that all we're doing with the round numbers? Because, if that's all it's about we should really just stop. Now.

If it's a round number because of the shape of the zero, why don't we attribute similar hip terms on some of the other numbers?

The two has that whole wavy zigzag going on there. Why don't we call those "snake numbers"?

"Yeah, I owed him £25 but he agreed to snake it down to £22 when I told him that's all I had on me."

And that one there - it's very straight, like a rocket. If a number ends in a one maybe we could call that an aerodynamic number.

"Let's aerodynamic it up to 101 here, okay?"

I think this could work. Then we can drop the unhealthy obsession with the round numbers. You're owed 96 pence? You'd never really know if someone's going to round it up to the full pound, aerodynamic it, or just snake it down. It'd keep people on their toes.

MY TRINNY AND SUSANNAH FANTASY

The main qualification for being a fashion consultant is an inability to dress reasonably. Whenever a fashion consultant appears on television they are always overdressed, wearing scarves, layers, fabrics that don't sit well together, colours that clash. They have these odd bits of flesh showing where really it shouldn't. It's not nice to look at - somebody really should tell them. They must have friends somewhere.

And yet, people love the advice of the fashion consultant. They'll stand there and be insulted, ridiculed, made to feel absolutely inconsequential. Never once do they turn around to the person giving the advice and say, "Well, you have the make-up skills of a drag queen." Which, let's be honest, most of them do. Layers of different fabric may show that the consultant is indecisive; layers of foundation - well, that's simply wrong.

It's fun to see the fashion consultant on the audience participation chat show. You have Trisha or Oprah or Kilroy there, very seriously introducing their special guest today in voice over while the camera lens tries not to crack as it's focused on some 15-going-on-40 year old wearing a puce silk scarf with a madras orange blouse and so much foundation that she daren't smile. Sure, these are the people we want to take advice from.

And yet, the fashion consultant is a well-paid occupation. It seems that you can make a pretty good living telling colour-blind people with self-confidence issues that brown really is the new black.

THE LAZY DNA

Apparently we share 98% of our DNA with monkeys. That is quite a large proportion - if you looked 98% the same as someone else you would, for all intents and purposes, be pretty much identical. So, this DNA thing - it's a pretty big deal.

And yet, the monkeys don't seem to be getting very far. They're not writing best-selling books, they're not driving around in monkey cars, they're not working on developing a monkey internet as far as I'm aware. All they're doing is swinging in the trees, living up mountain slopes, beating their chests and throwing faeces at one another.

You have to assume that the 98% of human DNA that the monkeys are sharing is all the lazy genes. It's all that procrastination, the putting-off-until-tomorrow abilities, the I won’t bother to leave a message... I'll just call again later on-ness that humans have.

Of course, the monkeys are probably looking at us thinking - well, they're inventing all this stuff, they've got the combustion engine down pat, they're writing all these books, but, monkey alive, are they stressed?! Come, live in the trees, beat your chests, throw faeces - why limit yourself, humans? You're 98% us - it would only take a little effort.

THE UNHIDDEN AGENDA

No man has ever argued with a woman for doing a bad job in a bikini. A waitress can serve you a cold cup of coffee, drop your meal in your lap, and set light to the table cloth - if she's wearing a bikini top a man will still leave a tip.

This explains the standard costume worn by the super-villainess. There's no need to restrain male security guards while in these outfits.

"Excuse me, miss - do you have a security pass to be in this section of the research facility?"

"Oops, silly me - I guess I must have left it in my other bikini."

"Yup, sounds good enough to me - just carry on taking the photographs of the secret plans. And have a nice day."

It's amazing that there aren't more women in politics. Once they've figured out the bikini secret, it seems they should be able to get 50% of the voters backing them right out the gate.

THE PATENT PENDING

Have you noticed how women can throw a strop at the drop of a hat? You can't fail to have noticed, in fact - every stand-up comedian on television since 1970 has brought this observation to your attention.

And yet, it's still enough to secure you a show on ITV. Make the same observation in bad false teeth and 1970s clothes and you can get a whole series on BBC-2.

In the Television Age, good, original punchlines are a rare breed. You have to work to get originality into an old joke, and there's that risk that the audience just won't like it.

Have you noticed how women can throw a strop at the drop of a hat? But men are usually better at throwing darts, so it balances out, I guess. That's how mother nature works - it's all checks and balances.

YOUR INNER PORN STAR

I'm getting just a little tired of the e-mails that tell you how to discover your porn star name. What is it this time? My pet's name and my road name?

I mean, is this really how porn stars are settling on their names? Is this the official formula that the pornography industry insist their featured artists adhere to before they can join the team? Is this like getting an equity card?

"So, Miss Blonde..."

"Please - call me Randy, all my friends do. Giggle."

"So, um, Randy, it says here on the form that you grew up on the High Street and you had a pet fish called Colin? Well, Miss Blonde - or should I say 'Colin High Street' - welcome to the porn industry."

There are a few variations on this theme, and it's always a mind-boggling selection of categories, isn't it? "Just add your pet's name to the name of the Ancient Egyptian god or goddess you most admire." "Add your mother's maiden name to the make of family car your father owned when you were six." "Your favourite brand of ice cream to the name of your junior school." It's a great big memory test of obscura to work these things out. And for what? Unless you lived on Tassels Street you're really wasting your time.

There are a few of these name things that do the rounds, and it's not just porn star names you can discover. There are websites dedicated to randomising you a Star Wars name on the spot, a mobster name, a stripper name, and on and on. Somebody has spent hours of programming time getting this thing up and running so I can learn that if I were a superhero I'd be called Hyper-Man. Yeah, thanks. I mean that.

The Star Wars ones are always interesting to me. You put in your name and they will randomise some kind of space sounding name, you know - Detoo Darkstar or Buzz Warpflyer. Because it's a well known fact that everyone in Star Wars has a ludicrous, space sounding name. Just ask Luke.

Or Ben.

REASONS TO SMILE

It strikes me that, as a banking organisation, the last thing you really want is customers who wilfully refuse to take basic responsibility for their own finances. Sure, you may not want them paying too much attention to how you're investing their money, you might prefer them not to watch you like a hawk, I can see that, but surely you'd like them to be passingly interested in what is going on with their bank account, even if it’s just to make sure they're aware they owe you money if they go into the red.

If you switch your bank account to Smile, their advertising tells us, they will move all your direct debit details across automatically. You see, there's simply no need for you to get involved. It's only your money - why pay any basic, cursory attention to who has access to it? What are the Smile Bank trying to hide? Is this why they are smiling so much?

According to the delightful woman in their television advert, having the Smile Bank do this is "like having someone else dump your boyfriend for you." There's an attractive philosophy. Yes, that's really sold me on your bank account, guys. Petty, irresponsible women are your preferred customer type. Where do I sign up? You just try and stop me.

What they're telling us with that slogan is the people they are really looking for to bank with them are the sort of people who pretty well dislike taking basic responsibility for any of the actions of their life. Not just banking. No, the really disinterested sorts who don't even want to get involved in the simple pleasantries of their own relationships. The sort of people who call screen with their answer machines then complain that no one ever invites them out anymore. The kind of people who drive the wrong way up a one way street with the rationalisation that they are "only going one way."

Here are some possible advertising slogans the Smile Bank might also consider:

"Karmically challenged welcome here."

"No morals, no problem."

"Don't even know what money is? Bank with us, ya mug."

"Looking to alienate everyone who knows you? Smile."

"Mwah-hah-hah-hah-hah!" (- done in a fair imitation of Vincent Price, if possible)

So, c'mon, Smile Bank - what are you trying to hide behind all that smiling? I'm onto ya.