dressing gown. Hey, judge me if you wish but you were the ones getting spannered on alcopops and making idiots of yourselves on Saturday night, not me.

Trouble is, when you're as clumsy as I am, you don't need booze to make an idiot of yourself.

"Any seconds?" I called down greedily to my wife as I made for the stairs with my half-finished plate. But she never got a chance to answer. My arse, head and goolies must have hit every step twice on the way down those stairs.

I think I've got internal carpet burns (not to mention a piece of okra wedged where it shouldn't be). From now on, I'll play it safe and just hit the boozer on Saturdays.