Just one week after posting my latest masterwork on YouTube, the reviews are already starting to pour in. Well, trickle in. Well ok, I've had one comment. But what a comment. It comes courtesy of 1smrtmuffin (or 'One Smart Muffin' if you're no good at texting), a 17-year-old American, who gets straight to the point with these carefully chosen words:

"this is stupid"

It's not clear whether she's referring to Lisa or Augusten Burroughs, but either way it's hard to argue.

In other news, I spent forty-five minutes this morning talking babies with a senior pharmacy technician from the Sussex Eye Hospital. As a result, the ocularly sick of Brighton were late getting their drugs, but I now know where to buy Lisa's maternity clothes.

Apparently the best place to find high quality straight-off-the-catwalk pregnancy haute couture is... Peacocks. Admittedly Lisa once said she wouldn't be seen dead shopping there (though she still prefers it to Lidl), but I have it on good authority that some of their maternity tops are so cheap you can throw them away at the end of the day. With the money I'll save on laundry bills, the clothes are practically free. I just wish I'd known this before I handed over a five-figure sum to Yummy Mummy. (Five figures including the pence, but even so).

To be honest, I was lucky to be present at work for that chat, after oversleeping by more than fifteen minutes this morning. Lisa and I have a highly sophisticated early-morning alarm system which basically involves her listening to Nicky Keig-Shevlin until she feels too tense to sleep, at which point she shakes me awake by the ankles and I leave the room in a huff.

Unfortunately our unborn baby has spent the past couple of weeks forcing acid up Lisa's throat, and the heartburn was so severe last night that Lisa spent the early hours of the morning rolling about in agony and waking me up every five minutes for a bit of sympathy. By 7am I'd become so accustomed to the situation that I interpreted her attempts to wake me as just another bout of indigestion, pointed at the Gaviscon and went back to sleep.

Anyhoo, having eventually opened my eyes long enough to glance at the clock, have a panic attack, and wonder if my boss would notice if I didn't have a shower, I sought Lisa's advice on my recent weight gain, which has been bothering me slightly. She told me to take something healthy into work, I told her I take a banana every day, and she replied with this intriguing pearl of wisdom:

"Bananas are the most fattening fruit".

Isn't that a bit like saying eclairs are the most slimming cream cake?