My word, it’s November and I’d like to know where the past 10 months have gone. More worrying, there’s only just over six weeks until my birthday. OK, I am not going to think about it. In fact, if I keep this momentum up, I won’t even realise the day has come and gone. But I will say one thing: Mariah Carey famously (and allegedly) barked “I don’t do stairs” (or her people said words of that effect) so hear me out – I don’t do e-cards. They’re acts of laziness, selfishness and stinginess plus they show no effort has been made.

Right! That’s done and dusted – let’s move on. I’ve had a relatively trouble-free weekend. Except for the trick-or-treaters who rang my doorbell twice at two separate intervals on the night of Hallowe’en. They must have been no more than seven years old, dressed up in fancy dress while their mothers who were chaperoning them from afar, gossiped amongst themselves, obliviously happy that their offspring were mugging people on their doorsteps for money and sweets. The little swines. What have they done to earn such treats? Isn’t begging illegal? I hate Hallowe’en and all the crap that comes with it. Selfish little brats. Poor Mojo was trying to creep up the stairs after her doorbell rang, when she heard a voice say, “Let’s wait a bit longer – there’s someone home!” I wish you had thrown that bucket of water over them, Mojo!

Still, at least you only get this once a year. The same can’t be said about ‘courtesy’ calls. Banks, credit card companies and telecommunication firms regularly call despite me making it abundantly obvious nobody is interested. And I’m ex-directory! This particular call was from a call centre very clearly not in this country – the pause at the beginning before the call clicks, the foreign accent, the ‘English’ sounding name and what sounds like someone robotically reading a prepared script. Like everyone, I’ve become increasingly annoyed by this kind of harassment and while I used to be polite and friendly in the beginning, hoping they’d get the hint, I’ve had to resort to methods of desperation – hanging up before they speak or better, barking at them to sod off.

But the one thing that always gets my goat is when they mispronounce my surname. It’s not exactly rocket science and God knows how I make the effort to learn theirs so the least they could do, if they want to sell me something, is to get it right! You’ll find ‘Shaikh’ in the English dictionary and even if you were to break it up in parts, it’s not a tongue twister. But oh no, they bring it upon themselves to add extra letters, extending the length of the name and the pronunciation into something horrific.

So, after experiencing this far too many times, I didn’t let this particularly ignorant bint get away with it. She sounded petrified and admittedly, I felt a little guilty but then again, she was calling while I was having my dinner AND she couldn’t get my name right. She was strictly told not to bother calling again but because she had been pre-programmed with some corporate garble, she uttered, “I’ll call again”. Erm, was I talking in another language?

My dad has the best trick to deal with nuisance callers and if you can go one better than him, please email me. Any way, when he answers such calls, he tells them Mr Shaikh is not home and they believe him!  My next trick is to ask them if they will pay me first to listen to them speak. I suggest you give that one a go too!

Finally, let’s all put our hands together and pray for Justin Hawkins and his injured hand, which nearly threatened The Darkness’ upcoming tour and involvement in Band Aid III. Well, if his hand is bruised a bit, surely he can fork out for a packet of Elastoplasts? Seriously, rumours were rife that the rocker from Lowestoft would not be able to play the guitar and thoughtfully, the head of press for Atlantic Records issued a brief statement to assure the British public that despite a “slight injury to his right hand”, Justin would be marching ahead with his commitments. Bless his Lycra cat suits.

In honour, we’d like you to know that Mojo cut her finger on a sheet of paper but still managed to get to work while I have been fasting every day for 18 days so far, and I have 12 more to go (it's not a huge deal as millions do the same, which is why I don't make a fuss over it).

If Justin’s injury could have posed a threat to the band's tour being put on hold and the disappointment of thousands of fans not being able to see their hero in concert, it’s not the end of the world! How ironic this is about someone who is participating on a charity record hoping to raise money for those starving in Africa. Smells like a PR stunt to me personally – and one greatly exaggerated. Come on Justin, why don’t you fast for a month and really feel the buzz? Or come up with better stories to spin into the vacuous pages of the tabloids.