I’ve reviewed countless numbers of TV shows relating to property; I shout at the screen when yet another couple on A Place in the Sun” have wasted an hour of my life, deciding, after viewing five properties, that they will return “in the future” (ie never) and go home to “discuss it with the family.”

I have to fit in a museum, too, so am heading for the Museum of Sex (known as MoSex) on 5th Avenue. The last sex museum I went to was in Amsterdam 30 years ago, and sex has come a long way since then – unlike my sex life, which hasn’t. It’s been so long, they might well make me an exhibit in the museum, so if you don’t hear from me for a while, you’ll know where to find me.

Who starts queuing for the All You Can Eat Buffet at 5am, for goodness sake? I tell you: they are going to consume every last morsel if it kills them, and when the food runs out, they’ll start on the table leg. Trump wasted so much energy worrying about building a wall to keep immigrants out; all he needed to do transport an army of Texans with a picnic to the border.

Apparently, there are some women on the planet who will do anything to get the men in their life out of it. Given the amount of trouble I have getting them in there in the first place, not to mention acquiring enough chloroform, rope and chains to keep them there, I can’t see that it’s a problem I’m ever going to encounter.