Well all good things must come to an end, and so it was that I reluctantly agreed to tag and release Lisa back into the wild. We diced with death on the way back down to Brighton yesterday, and not just by eating at a service station branch of Burger King. An accident on the A23 just north of Brighton had closed the road, meaning we were forced to enjoy a tour of Burgess Hill at speeds of up to 5mph. Still, a couple of hours earlier and we'd have been enjoying a tour of heaven, so you can't complain.

Despite Lisa's deliberate attempts to get me lost, I successfully ignored her and found her flat, where I picked up another two packets of Polos and was treated to a demonstration of a stereo system in perfect working order. I also wondered how anyone can own CDs by both Eminem and Barry Manilow.

A quick chat about jockeys with Lisa's Mum, and I was off again, making my way home via Washington, which I always thought was in America, but is in fact just north of Worthing. I arrived back at the shores of Shotley Gate an injured man, having managed to suck my way through one and a half packets of Polos. My tongue feels like it's been attacked with a blowtorch. They should put a warning on the packet - how am I supposed to know it's not a good idea to eat them non-stop for three hours?