Yes, I really do suffer for fashion.

So I logged in to Facebook and what did I see?

You have 2 Event invitations.

"Terrorist Training" - Friday 19th October at Afghanistan.

You have been invited by Ahmed.

Would you like to accept this invitation?

Attending, Maybe Attending or Not Attending.

Sorry Ahmed, I go bombing on Fridays.

Is it just me wondering whether Alistair Darling is as bipolar as his hair?

I mean, no offence and all, but you look ridiculous mate. Sort of like Eugene Levy in ten year's time.

Nice swoop and steal by Labour though. Get your rivals to announce their vote winning policies, adopt them as your own. and watch Boy George blow his gasket all over Westminster.

My boss is having a clearout in the office, so behind me sit three large boxes of Hushh's finest sex toys and cheeky garments. We have rampant rabbits. We have big black dongs. We have...well, I don't know what that is but I wouldn't want it inside me.

As part of the office overhaul, I walked home this Monday with 72 free condoms. Pretty extravagant considering they expire in January, but you never know when you might get lucky a few dozen times in one night. I make it about 10 weekends until New Years, so to truly reap the rewards, I'm gonna need to be having it like the clappers on protein pills. And that's a scary thought for North West London.

Either that or I could be a total diamond and stock up me mates. There's just something a little bit unnerving about becoming the chief supplier of contraceptives over a casual pint of Stella. I don't want to be known as Aunty Martin, if you catch my drift.

I've been copping a fair bit of stick for my fashion lately. Not just the clothes, but the hair-do too. My boss says I look like I've caught a train to the wrong decade and turned up in the 70s. My friends say the sideburns and psychedelic shirts have to go. Personally, I think it's all a bit silly.

Yes, I have nailed a few horrendous outfits in my time. And yes, I probably could do with an extended lunch break in the nearest salon. But it beats the same old same old.

It's been a bit of a struggle to hold back from posting a very different entry over the past few days. But as much as these words betray how I'm actually feeling, something tells me they're a reassuring sight to the people that matter. I miss what I used to take for granted - and at about 4pm today it'll probably become clear why.

I'm venturing off to Bournemouth this weekend to catch up with a mate, and to inevitably christen his flat. I've told him to go to Sainsburys on Friday night. Not for food, but to stock up on plastic bags. Oh, self burn. If only you knew!