Well I must admit, when I walked into Clair Hall (it's a venue, not someone I bumped into) in Haywards Heath last night, I was a bit of a skeptic. I had my doubts about mediums and clairvoyants, and tended to believe they were all a load of charlatans (unlike Regression Therapists, who have my full support), but I decided to attend last night's performance with an open mind, and not to jump to any conclusions.

Well people, I'm here today to tell you that to my surprise I came out of that place last night totally convinced. There are now no doubts in my mind whatsoever.

Colin Fry is definitely a fraud.

I think it was the Jaffa Cakes that did it for me. We paid Mr Fry £18.50 a ticket to tell a lady that her grandmother wanted to pass on a mesage about Jaffa Cakes, only for the lady to shriek in shocked surprise, because she'd been to Marks & Spencers last week and they were on special offer. Is it just me, or is that a bit tenuous?

Anyhoo, I'm pleased to report that in real life, Colin's ears are even bigger than they appear on his website. He's also as camp as Christmas, and came on in a white suit, with a jacket which reached down to his ankles. He began by saying that someone by the name of Eddy or Edwards (hedging his bets) was coming through, before a man stood up, declared that his name was Eddy, whereupon Colin changed his story and said "Yes, I'm looking for a man called Eddy". I wasn't that impressed. But I was even less impressed by his second dead customer who was "either called May, or has a connection with the month of May". I thought, that's handy - having someone named after a month. Kinda doubles your chances.

Fortunately he found someone with a connection to May, and after chatting for ten minutes, he moved on to another elderly woman who was coming through on a strong vibration. Guess what her name was?

June.

I did wonder if I was the only one noticing this, and having pointed it out to a few people in the interval, the answer appeared to be yes. I was waiting for April to appear in the second half, but sadly it didn't happen - even Colin has limits to how far he'll push something.

Well, I say that, but actually, the way he began the second half, you did wonder if there's anything the man won't do. He came strolling on, waving to the crowd, before suddenly bursting into tears and announcing that he was going to give the proceeds from the evening to the local hospital. Apparently his Mum died there, and the nurses were fantastic, which prompted one of them (who just happened to be in the audience) to rush up on stage and comfort him. She was followed by his brother, who gave him a hug, after which Colin went through a five minute tearful tribute to those who have supported him - from his partner Vince, to his hairdresser Chris, and his P.A. who he's known since he was four. It was when he started thanking Boots the Chemist and Lloyds Bank that I began wondering if he'd gone too far. I'm sure Boots have always been there for him (in a condoms and KY Jelly kind of a way), but does that really warrant a sobbing tribute?

Anyhoo, Colin only actually communicated with about six or seven (living) people through the course of the evening, and two of those he knew personally, which seemed slightly suspect. He blamed that on the fact that he was a local boy, but said he'd only pass on things he couldn't possibly know. He then told one of his best friends that her father was dead. It was uncanny.

The highlight for me was the woman whose deceased grandmother came through, whereupon Colin said "she was a very sweet lady, wasn't she?", prompting the instant reply of "No". So she was clearly a nasty piece of work, but that didn't stop Colin, who claimed that she may not have always seemed sweet, but she was when you got to know her.

I also enjoyed his question to a lady "Was a scythe important to this person?", which produced an instant 'no', whereupon Colin immediately said "oh, I must be getting a new connection coming through" (presumably the Grim Reaper), and promptly broke for the interval.

But anyway, it was enjoyable evening (in a funfair showman kind of a way), and I got to meet Mel, a friend of Lisa's who, I hasten to add, is alive, not dead.

Earlier in the day we'd been to the Kemp Town Brasserie for a lunch of posh burgers and sardines with their heads on, before embarking on a birthday outing to B & Q. But perhaps the highlight of the day was the news that Lisa's mother has been asked out on a date by an 80 year old man. The amorous octagenarian is known as Doug (presumably because he buried his wife), lives in the flat below, and as part of his strategy to persaude Lisa's Mum to accompany him to the pictures, mentioned that he has money. And a disabled sticker for his car.

So here we have a potential father-in-law with a flat, a large bank balance, a weak heart (I'm guessing), and the facility to park wherever he likes in Brighton town centre.

And Lisa's Mum said no. Honestly, I need to have a serious word with that woman.