A stiff upper lip and a pathetically frail ankle. Hail, Britannia!

I'm sick to death of this ongoing theory that I'm some kind of womanizer, and a bad influence on my taken friends. I can count with one finger the number of times I've approached a girl in the last few months. Admittedly, I'd have to use two hands for the number of girls I've actually slept with, but that's a different story of insecurity and floating through limbo.

I hate this stray accusation that spending time in my company is likely to act as an aphrodisiac for my friends and force them in to mistakes. I'm single and I stay away from empty corners at the pub, but that doesn't mean others have to follow suit.

Girls seem to mistake my flirty nature for a vast sweeping persona which I present to every female on my travels, but I really don't. It's either that or they confuse a genuine shyness - which I actually do have, believe it or not - for a lack of interest. Caught between two extremes, I don't think I've ever been able to find a middle ground.

Maybe that's why I have a particularly hard time shaking one night stands out of the system. While I'm naturally pretty affectionate and happy to cuddle, it probably sends out the wrong message that I've been waiting for more than the strawberries and cream.

Have you heard about The Crack? You know, The Crack at the Tate Modern?

That's £300,000 spent on a work of art that I'll never quite understand.

But you know what the brilliant thing is? The gallery is considering the prospect of glossing over the crack in a plastic sheet after 15 people managed to injure themselves in it.

Only in Britain, that's all I have to say to that. Only in Britain are the museum-goers such hopelessly lost causes that a famed crack exhibition could fill an entire A&E ward.

"So err, Mum, I went to see The Crack today."

"Oh really? How was it, honey?"

"Bit of a tight squeeze, actually. But the hospital food was lovely."

According to the artist, the exhibition represents borders, the experience of immigrants, the experience of segregation, and the experience of racial hatred.

According to me, she's smoking crack.

In any case, why would I travel to the Tate Gallery to see a giant crack when I have my own father's dodgy patio work in the back garden to muse over? You don't have to be an artist to create good art. You just have to be bloody convincing.

This story about the woman naming a teddy bear Muhammad and facing 40 lashes as a punishment is a prime example of why Islam and I will never get along. It might not be politically correct to say so, but I despise the values that these people strive to live up to.

Muslims continue to argue that they receive a bad press and ultimately go misunderstood in the western world. Is it any wonder? This is a religion harbouring mentalists who'll go out and burn an effigy of a teacher who's travelled to the country to educate and help its people. How can you possibly condone a violent outdated punishment as justification for an innocent mistake?

Not only does it show a lack of respect for the woman's own personal beliefs, but it stamps on the good grace that western countries have extended in welcoming Muslims with open arms and making the effort to find a home for their culture and faith.

Send me hate mail if you wish, but I find a large number of Muslims to be as intolerant and as hateful as the westerners they continue to spit feathers at. I'm not referring to the extremists or the terrorists, but the general mood of the religion itself. You can say what you want about bad apples in every basket, but I tend to judge the nature of a religion by the love or hate that it spawns.

While I could never turn up at church and keep a straight face, I can appreciate that it gives a lot of people a lot of reason in life. Islam, rarely manages to extend its acceptance of blind faith to modern day tolerance.

Finally, I read in the Lite yesterday that the woman who makes the famous Mind the Gap announcements for London Underground has been fired. Apparently she created a website with satirical announcements such as "Would the passenger ... pretending to read a paper but who is actually staring at that woman's chest please stop. You're not fooling anyone, you filthy pervert."

Alright woman, you did say Mind the Gap. You didn't say which one.