Am I the only one who finds it hard to hear the name Barry George without thinking of Culture Club? Every time I see a picture of Jill Dando, I start humming 'Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?'

But that aside, my favourite news story of the day was this one from Canada:

"A man on a Greyhound bus travelling across the Canadian Prairies has killed and decapitated a fellow passenger. An eyewitness said the victim was stabbed 50 or 60 times by the man sitting next to him, who then severed his head with a large knife."

And I thought I'd sat next to a few nutters on the bus.

A couple of years ago, Big Sis went out for the evening with a bloke she'd met on a Greyhound Bus. Some people thought she'd lost her head that day, but clearly it could have been worse.

Anyhoo, it's been a quiet day at work, which is why I was reading the BBC news site, but by mid-afternoon I was forced to leap into action. I received a phone call at 3:40pm from the Royal Sussex County Hospital, saying they needed an urgent supply of drugs for the weekend (don't we all), and asking if there was any way they could get hold of them. Naturally I did the only decent thing: I told them I'd take their drugs. With hindsight I wish I'd said "drive them over".

As luck would have it, I happened to know that Lisa was due to finish work at 4pm, and I couldn't help thinking that she might like a ride in the pharmacy van appreciate a lift home in her current state of pregnancy. So with patient welfare very much at the forefront of my mind, I jumped into one of Her Majesty's vehicles and headed straight for Lisa's place of work.

Unfortunately, despite looking like she's got a space hopper up her blouse, Lisa can move more quickly than you think. By the time I got there, she'd already left, and was heading down the main road on foot. I soon caught up with her in the drugsmobile, but herein lies the problem: Lisa is the most unobservant person I've ever met. Frankly it's a miracle she ever spotted me on Victoria station four years ago. She has a tendency to head in a straight line (usually in the wrong direction), looking permanently ahead and refusing to veer from her path, come hell, high water, or white van man screaming her name across two lanes of traffic.

I shouted at her from the right-hand lane of a dual carriageway, waved my arms, then turned right, did a u-turn, and pulled onto the pavement. As she neared the corner, I honked my horn, leaned out of the window, and shouted again. She stopped. But only because there was a red man on the crossing. And I don't mean me. So I floored the accelerator, pulled up to the traffic lights, saw the green man appear, and watched as she crossed the road three feet in front of my van.

I have to say, shouting at pedestrians on a pelican crossing does tend to get you some odd looks from members of the public. Unfortunately the only person not to turn, stare, and start to take down my registration number was Lisa. I waved and shouted at her again thirty seconds later as I overtook the girl for a third time, but as I write this, Lisa still has no idea I was ever there. And she won't do until she reads this post.