Q. What happens when you go on holiday to America, and then someone sends you a dodgy picture of a dog?

A. You immediately get a search engine hit for the words 'Bichon Frise female for sale in Austin Texas'.

Isn't the internet marvellous. I should set up a dog breeding business, there's clearly a gap in the market.

Anyhoo, Lisa's lasagne turned out to be very nice on Saturday. That's twice she's cooked it for me now, and twice I've survived. What are the odds. And according to her bathroom scales this morning, I've lost two pounds in the last three days, despite doing no exercise whatsoever, and eating more than I would at home. So either I should be marketing Lisa's lasagne as a miracle weight loss product, or I should be buying her a new set of scales.

Yesterday Lisa and I made our way over to Portslade in order to inflict our holiday photos on Lorraine, who in turn fought back by giving us a detailed account of the building of her new conservatory. She's also refusing to listen to a word I say, after I confidently told her in December that it would only take a couple of weeks for her new cat to be accepted by her old cat. The clatter of claws and wails of anguish from the kitchen suggested that it might be taking a tad longer than I thought. But hey, we gave her a Southfork mug, what more does the woman want?

Incidentally, there was an article in the Sunday People yesterday exposing the scandalous erection (that'll go down well with the search engines) of a mobile phone mast on top of the maternity wing of the Royal Sussex Hospital. It is indeed an outrage. But the maternity wing in question happens to be less than 200 yards from Lisa's flat, and frankly my reception has never been so good.

Oh, and it turns out Lisa wasn't joking on Friday about being in work at 8am. I was forced out of bed at 6:30 this morning. Which is the real scandal around here.