Today’s Crap Service of the Week Award has a slightly more sombre tone than usual. It goes to the British Government, in the week they refused to stump up for the ceremony to unveil the Bomber Command Memorial in London’s Green Park. This is the same Government which splashes taxpayers’ cash around for penthouse apartments for Somalian refugees, which dishes out our hard-earned notes to work-shy teenagers with hoards of kids pushing their “entitlement” to benefits down our throats on a regular basis. The Government which gives benefits to six million people in this country apparently too ill or hard-done-by to get off their backsides and pay for their own plasma screen tv and fags. Our veterans, who risked their lives time and time again for their country, can expect a big fat £0 from the Ministry of Defence for their efforts. They face having to cough up £70,000 from their own pockets to pick up the bill for unveiling the memorial they waited almost 70 years fo

It has been one of those days. In the morning I am crouched in the sweltering heat talking to Carol Vorderman: And then in the afternoon I am stood at the side of an ice rink, shivering, waiting to meet Camilla (that's not me in the forefront by the way): Of course this is all in a day’s work for a tabloid journo, and both events were a great deal of fun to cover. Carol was hosting the official unveiling of the memorial to the Bomber Command, in Hyde Park, London. I had a wonderful morning chatting to the veterans who, after 70 years, finally have a fitting tribute to their brave efforts in the Bomber Command during the Second World War. The Duchess of Cornwall was attending an event laid on by the WRVS at Queensway Ice Rink. Worry not, a special mat was placed over the rink before she placed a royal toe on the ice. Anyway, as always I took some piccies, so here’s a little clip I took of the lady herself having a chat to some of the g

Oh dear – it looks like I’m for the chop if the sun doesn’t come out this week. Well, to be more precise, if it doesn’t  get much hotter by Thursday. And who is going to dish out this telling off? – who else but my favourite tv duo Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby on This Morning.  As their “favourite weatherman” – I have to add here that I am in fact a versatile news reporter and cover all sorts of things at the Express, but let’s roll with it – they are banking on my “prediction”of a mega-hot blast in the next few days. In his usual stern manner when talking weather with me, Phil reiterated his earlier warning to drag me back into the studio to explain myself if it turns into a washout – you won’t have to drag me, I’ll come willingly! Of course forecasters are saying there is a blast of hot air about to storm in from the Atlantic and that could push temperatures up to 34C. It won’t last long, but it could feel very hot and humid over the next f

Today was not the best day to come at me in your bright orange tabard, waving a clip board and promising you don’t want my money. You have been out in force again, harassing innocent city workers on their lunch break, wrestling them to the ground to relieve them of their hard-earned cash. Yes, that’s right, you the blight on the landscape -  Chuggers. It's the sight guaranteed to veer me off my usual course and force me onto a three-mile diversion to get my banana and diet Coke at lunchtime.  Sinister huddles of grinning sales people, smacking their lips in anticipation as they see me coming, limbering up to guilt-trip me out of my address, phone number and bank account details. Before I launch into a rant about these pestilences of modern society (oh yes, believe me I haven’t even started yet), I am going to point out that I do give to charity. I donate regularly to the causes I wish to help, and my bag happens to be animals. That is my thing – I make no

Sometimes someone comes up with an offer that’s just too good to turn down. I have been meaning to get some good-quality business cards printed for a while. A string of disasters doing it on the not-cripplingly-expensive has led me to believe that when it comes to business cards - often the only thing  important people have to remember you by - it’s worth investing the money. I have almost wept over some of the pathetic attempts so-called professionals have had the gall to send back to me. Some printed on paper like toilet roll, others with blurred, amateurish print, and the worst - a set with “Done on the cheap by Vistaprint” or some such rubbish embossed on the back. Thank you very much, but if you want me to go around promoting your company you can pay me for the privilege. They went straight in the bin and a mental note was made never to use that particular firm again. Anyway, these past few weeks I have been meaning to get a new set done, but I want