It's been almost three months now since Lisa and I left behind the dodgy Freeview reception at our old flat, and moved into both a new home and the 21st century, with cable TV from Virgin Media. And what's the result? Well, we've just bought tickets to go and see Sally Morgan.

Obviously she's psychic, so she already knew that, but no one else would have seen it coming. Let's face it, I'm someone who spends at least one day a week grading retinal photos whilst listening to podcasts from The Skeptic's Guide to the Universe, Karl Mamer - The Conspiracy Skeptic, and the ever amusing Righteous Indignation, which is presented by a primary school teacher, and frequently features guests more deluded than his pupils.

But it was August 2005 when Lisa and I went to see Colin Fry in Haywards Heath, and I do believe that for sheer entertainment value, everyone should go and see a bad psychic at least once every five years. The message Colin received from the spirit world about Jaffa Cakes will live with me for a very long time. I can still picture him now, bursting into tears as he thanked Boots the Chemist for all their support. It was uplifting stuff. And even Lisa, who, let's face it, will believe anything, came out of there thinking he was a fraud.

Mr Fry's half-baked grilling of the audience is a technique which has now been poached by Sally Morgan, who's steamed in with her own particular brand of psychic reading, which basically involves patronising people from council estates in an irritating voice, before making off with their money. Living TV call it 'Psychic Sally on the Road', and I have to say it's very entertaining. Let's face it, you can't spend all evening watching re-runs of 'America's Next Top Model'. Trust me, we've tried.

During last night's edition of the roadshow (during which Psychic Sally successfully informed Lee Ryan of boy-band Blue that he has a sister), Lisa suddenly expressed a desire to go and see the woman live, "to find out how much of her shows they have to edit out to make her look good". Bearing in mind that we see about five minutes of a two hour performance, I'd suggest it's an hour and fifty-five minutes. But I could be wrong.

So I went online to look at tour dates, and as luck would have it, Sally's playing Brighton in January. Frankly the woman's permanently on tour. It's as if she's on the run from something. As befits a nationally renowned psychic, her shows tend to sell out months in advance, but as luck (if not fate) would have it, there are still some seats left for the Brighton Theatre Royal. Although they're so far from the stage, I'm worried that she won't see me waving when my dead cat, Oscar, comes through.

Anyhoo, the good news is that by the time we'd paid booking fees and service charges, the tickets only cost us fifty quid. Which is a small price to pay for a bit of cold-reading. Interestingly, I looked up Sally on Wikipedia today, and found that some astute individual has rewritten the page's introduction to read "Sally Morgan (born 20 September 1951) is a British scam artist". It also says she's married to Jim Bowen. According to the page's history, it's been like that for more than forty-eight hours. You'd think a psychic would have noticed by now.