Gratefully Dead.

You may have heard on the wireless, or any other currently available media format, the exciting news that a few bits of the mortal remains of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux are visiting this country on their never-ending world tour. A bit like Bob Dylan in other words. Look, Leicester and next month, presumably in an effort to do a Johnny Cash, she's playing the Scrubs. Please do try and stay focused, I'll try and not excite you too much.

Now, my copious research (listening to Jezza Vine while making scrambled eggs earlier), has revealed that she's a dead woman who, while she was alive, was a big fan of God and his son and heir, Baby Jebus. I haven't really looked deeply into her background but according to Jezza, whose researchers obviously did their jobs properly so I have no reason to doubt the accuracy of his reportage, she was canonised largely on the basis that "she smiled at people she disliked, ate things she hated and took the blame for things she hadn't done" a philosophy she called her "little way".

I don't wish to sound picky or anything but she was, after all, a Roman Catholic nun and presumably not completely up with the ways of the world. Her "little way" has been practised by every single man who's ever been married. I cannot ever recall being referred to as a saint.

Carry on.