I think the overtime's paying off already. I had a chat with my boss this morning, during which he indicated to me that with the extraordinary levels of drug-related talent I've exhibited so far, I'm virtually guaranteed frequent promotion on a grand scale, and in all probability will be running the place on a six figure salary by Christmas. Admittedly it took a bit of reading between the lines for me to reach that conclusion, but I'm pretty sure that when he said "Doors will definitely open for you down at the hospital", he wasn't just referring to my swipe-card security access.

Anyhoo, while I'm impressing employers with my work ethic, Lisa's been reading 'The Virgin Book of Baby Names' (which is undoubtedly the most inappropriate publisher for a pregnancy book) and jotting down her favourites. I can't reveal the shortlist for legal reasons, but suffice it to say I've crossed out Samantha because it reminds me of Essex, Madeleine because I don't like tapas, and Genevieve because it's frankly ridiculous.

On the boys' side, I'm concerned that Lisa's chosen the name of one of our neighbours (thank God we don't have a milkman), but not as concerned as I am by her choice of...

... Rex. Yes, Rex. Or to put it another way...


No, it doesn't look any better in Lisa's handwriting.

Admittedly it's got an element of novelty, and Rex Gardner does sound a bit like a film star, but we wouldn't be able to call him in the park without people thinking we've got a dog.