As far as I am concerned - there are only 3 certainties in this world - death, taxes and come October 31st, hoodied youths knocking on my door threatening to pelt my window eggs, post dog faeces through my letter box or scrawl 'Coffin dodger' in permanent marker across my front door, should i have the gall to deny them a Cadburys Boost. Halloween is to pensioners what pay day must be to 1960's American restauranteurs when the local mob come calling for their protection money. In previous years I have been armed with a variety of 'fun sized' confectionery - only to befall a front door 'flouring' regardless. Tonight, I will lock myseLf in, leave a four pack of Herald Lager in a cool bag along with a cherry Fruit Corner, so as I can stay in the lounge, lights off, watching Das Boot on mute for five hours, until the little swines choose to direct their doorbell related thuggery to another unwitting elder. If I had my way, I would have these enfant terribles trussed up in the street, smeared in raw meat and then sent upon by a van load of hungry rottweilers. Wish me luck friends.

As a member of the elderly community, this time of year is fraught with danger. Slippery leafy driveways, cold weather, the possibility of a high wind knocking out my sky dish and leaving me unable to watch Men and Motors etc. Above all these is the menace of flu, and the agony that is a trip to the health centre (that is essentially the human equivalent of an elephants graveyard) and having an injection from one of the most partially sighted and inept nurses/people alive today. Not content with this annual hardship, I am now told that I am to be wary to the danger of bird flu.

Before being corrected by that pedant Gregory, I was comfortable in the knowledge that bird flu was the female version of man flu, where males with sniffles take to their beds and weep like children until broths, kleenex, Nuts magazine, Cadbury mini-eggs and whisky are provided for them by a doting nursemaid. But alas no, a dead parrot has arrived in Britain riddled with disease, and so I am lead to believe able to wipe out our entire nation. We survive terrorist atrocities,hurricanes, the Blitz, the replacement of Bev from the Kev,Bev ,Kev car insurance adverts only to succumb, Monty Python style, to an 'ex -parrot'. Unbelievable.

As a result, I spent the weekend drinking Scotch, eating a variety pack of Pringle Tubes, and giving my credit card details to Television X, staying inside to ensure my own safety. Bloody marvellous it was too.

Joyce from downstairs has been playing the 'War of the Worlds' original soundtrack at an interminable volume all afternoon, the bass alone is enough to cause an involuntary bowel movement. Being awoken from my afternoon slumber with news that aliens have invaded is quite disconcerting at my age. It was only when 'Forever Autumn' came on that I was reassured no attack was imminent. I tried knocking but the old bat will never hear me, she could be lying prone on the floor dead, even her personal safety alarm wouldnt be heard over that racket, but I will err on the side of her being okay as there is an episode of Rumpole I havent seen coming on UK Drama. I have just had the misfortune of witnessing an advert for a large chain of Spectacle retailers, I was absoutley seething. The ungrateful bespectacled daughter berates her Mother for having the temerity to eschew glasses in favour of lenses in front of her (clearly long -suffering) boyfriend, who seems to have committed a crime none more heinous than to laugh along with his propsective in-law. This vile, and blatantly insecure harridan then turns on him when he explains that he thinks her mother is 'nice'. This ad is not only implying that 'wearing spectacles makes you look dowdy and unappealing to the opposite sex' but also shows the lack of respect shown by young people in this day and age, and put me in mind of Gregory. I was appalled. Lost £2 on Liam Fox as well, but then i have more chance of voting for a Conservatory than I have a Conservative. Anyways, Rumpole will make it all better..

I have not been up to long but have already spent most of the morning removing bits of dry roasted peanuts from my teeth. Dr Hilary in TV Quick magazine said that it is very important to eat foods like fruit and nuts. As I have eaten so healthily I plan to treat myself to some crispy pancakes later. I do hope they do not end up burnt black on one side and bright orange on the other again.

I have been gripped by the Tory leadership campaign this week. Now that they have got rid of the the 'Big Beast' Ken Clarke, who always looks like he probably has some old sherbert lemons covered in fluff in his pockets and probably has quite pungent body odour we are down to the final three. Davis, who looks like should sell life insurance door to door from a battered mauve Ford Sierra, Cameron, who uses far too much moisturiser and couldnt knock the skin off a rice pudding, and 'unmarried at 44' Dr Fox (i thought he was a DJ?) who claims he has done the hibbedy jibbedy with Natalie Umbrella, but looks more like a gruff old business studies teacher. I certainly wouldnt let him examine my particulars if I got my itching back again. I wouldnt trust any of them to run a small basin of cold water let alone the country, it is akin to deciding between a maggotty sandwich, a stale soggy sandwich and a sandwich that you have found on the floor, when choosing your lunch. I have punt a few quid on the doctor anyway, so here is hoping.

Bloody Gregory came round today and lent me his Best of Summer Wine DVD. Sometimes I feel he is not really my son, either that or he is still trying to punish me for that time I made him travel in the caravan to the Eden Project. He even insisted we watch an episope. He reckons it is almost as funny as "As time goes by" which is to quote Gregory "Hilarious". I told him to belt up and switched over to X-factor. He left not long after this, during a Thornton rant.