Well I did return to work today, clean shaven and slightly out of it on throat lozenges. Within half an hour of arrival, four people had commented on my weight loss, so I think they all suspect I've been at Fat Camp for a fortnight, or having my stomach stapled at a private clinic. Unfortunately my thin torso has been outweighed by my thick head, and I've spent the day feeling quite fuzzy. And not in a warm sense. So whilst my body's been back at work, I think my brain's still off sick.

But as if to remind me that things could be worse, I received an e-mail from Lisa halfway through my clinic this afternoon, informing me of the untimely death of Michael Winner. Naturally I refuse to take anything Lisa says at face value, so having told her to calm down (dear), I checked the BBC News website, where I read this:

"The director had experienced a run of ill-health since eating a bad oyster on holiday in Barbados in 2007. He later picked up the E coli virus from a steak tartare, and was hospitalised eight times in the last few months of his life".

It makes me feel grateful to be working class. We might have horse meat in our burgers, but it's unlikely to kill us.

In the meantime, I've found someone to take over Winner's Dinners...

Not only can Toby suck down a banana at the age of five months, but he's got a ready made source of foie gras.