Enjoying a spot of quantitative easing in the throne room of Pumsey Towers the other day, I was struck by two appalling things. One of these was my beloved Lady Veronica as she emerged from the shower to discover me in s(h)itu. My second tragic realisation as Grendel's Mother fetched me a loving right hook across the temple was that I appear to be wasting my life.

Now, I am not the first to have reached that conclusion. In fact, many of the politicians I have battled during my two years in this exalted office have said the same thing - and that's just my cabinet colleagues.

So it's time to take stock and ask what I have achieved during my tenure. Even using the magical realism of Tesco's or Asda's price comparators, it's undeniable that the price of British staples such as gassy weak lager, canned balti corned beef and deep-fried cookies has spiralled uncontrollably. Those suppliers not shafted out of existence by jack-booted category managers are now in terrified cahoots with the big four, and I can't even claim credit for the executive self-immolations rather entertainingly afflicting the banking industry.

Yes, my achievements are limited to another 17 notches on the Pumserian dispatch belt courtesy of the temp agency - frankly the only briefs I can claim to have fingered successfully. And yet, sordid readership, levity descended upon my tortured soul as I lay quivering, ankle-trousered and delirious on the bathroom floor. For however far I may have sunk, at least I am not among the Co-op workers who now have to place their greasy fingerprints (six on each hand) on a scanner to clock on, and not just all over the sausages.

And neither am I the webmaster at Sainsburys.com, which seems to have been constructed with the same care as King Justin's PVC shirt/tie combos. Luckily for KJ, the latest closure of that particular cash sluice can only serve to enhance JS's profitability.