As a general rule, the only time I get to read books these days is in the bath or at the wheel of my car. The former is obviously only an annual occurrence and happens mainly on my birthday, while the latter isn't quite as dangerous as it sounds, as I tend to use audiobooks more than paperbacks. I finished a John Grisham novel on my way back from Uckfield on Thursday, which meant that I began a new adventure this morning by driving up to East Grinstead to the sounds of 'Cold Granite' by Stuart MacBride.

Now, I like to think I'm quite broadminded, and can regularly startle Lisa with bawdy language, tasteless comments and offensive opinions. Mostly in front of her mother. But if there's one thing I wasn't prepared for as I drove through the picturesque Sussex countryside at 8am on a Monday morning, it was a description of a four-year-old boy having his genitals removed with a pair of secateurs. Fortunately, the knife in his head meant that he was already dead at the time and didn't feel a thing, but even so, it was slightly unsettling. By the time I got to the Health Centre, I needed a lie down. Which was actually quite convenient, as there was a motorised reclining couch in my room.

More impressive than the level of explicit grisliness, however, was the sterling work being done by John 'Whose Line is it Anyway' Sessions, who had transformed the simple job of reading aloud into something akin to a Bafta winning performance. He'd somehow managed to come up with about eight variations of the Scottish accent, allowing him to convey numerous different characters, all of them from Scotland, without confusing a simple sassenach like me. He had a voice for every occasion. And what's more, none of them sounded like Jimmy Krankie, which is an achievement in itself.

On the subject of The Krankies (this is seamless), it appears that Lisa's memory of the 1980s is about as accurate as Rolf Harris's. A number of things seem to have slipped her mind, as was proven last night when I wiped the floor with her on 'The Big Fat Quiz of the 80s'. She failed to recognise the names of The Chippendales, despite having seen them perform live, can't spell the word 'Rubik', and attempted to claim a point for one question that she failed to answer, on the grounds that she would have known it if she'd been listening.

But perhaps the biggest eye-opener of the evening was the revelation that despite having grown up in the vibrant city of Brighton, with easy access to some of the greatest legends of popular music, Lisa chose to spend her youth going to see Trevor & Simon at the Dome. That's Trevor & Simon, not Paul Simon. I was already aware that back in the 80s she was a regular visitor to wrestling events featuring Giant Haystacks, and was no stranger to the odd Joe Longthorne concert, but this one takes the biscuit. Which in this case would be a Jacob's Orange Club. She claims she never went to see Duncan Norvelle, but frankly I have my doubts.