No-one could ever accuse Dawn Primarolo of taking her eye off the ball. Having only just put the finishing touches (in green crayon) on the masterpiece of irrelevant nonsense that is nutrient profiling, a lesser woman would have rested on her laurels. But not 'False' Dawn.

With the type of disregard for the intelligent use of public finances that makes Peter Viggers' duck island look like a worthy civil engineering project, La Primula announces the findings of a survey determining which profession collectively constitutes the biggest bunch of pissheads in this troubled island of ours.

And, surprise, surprise - it's those working in media, publishing and entertainment. So let's get this straight. While she's not screwing lids on overpriced liquid plastic cheese, DP (fine initials, but purely a coincidence) has spent £100K of taxpayers' dosh in establishing that hacks are drunkards and actresses are lushes. Apparently the MoD is about to spend a similar sum researching the effect of a hand grenade in the gonads.

The drinking habits of MPs were sadly not disclosed, but the fact that I was personally not polled would have reduced the average figure to workable levels in any case, as I mentioned to Rosey over a Double-D sized dinner at the club the other night.

Poor old Stuart was not on top form - not only is M&S haemorrhaging top management like the frumpy 125-year-old it is, but the bloodletting seems to have spread to the very top. Paddy Power has now stopped taking bets on Stewie sitting out his full term, although he still seems deluded enough to believe he'll return St Michael to its former glory before all that's left to him is his lifelong 5% discount on surgical stockings.

Mind you, the way things are going yours truly could be due for the high jump soon. In the forthcoming choice between plague and cholera that will be the general election, the Boy David now looks odds-on. Lovely lady, that Baroness Thatcher. And blue is quite my colour.