Alarm abounding at P&F that the great allergy bonanza may be coming to an end.

We have built whole sectors (wheat-free, soya-free, dairy-free, fun-free) on misdiagnosis, fear and yummy mummy stupidity so the last thing we need is a dose of common sense. Plans are afoot to spike NICE's interference with a "10 food allergies you didn't know you had!" campaign.

Just to help, we've found a lovely lady nutritionist (slightly ditzy and refreshingly unqualified) who will tell women with dry skin that they are allergic to vegetables and should be eating more rice and men who snore that they should cut out toast and eat more pasta thus coincidentally satisfying two of our clients at once.

NICE would do well anyway not to incur the very scary wrath of Karoline (with a K) who leads our merry band. Look what's happened to the FSA since they fired us! She was straight on the phone last week to advise the dour Scotsman Dour Jock McDour I think at the centre of Clonegate how best to stick the knife into the Kingsway food police.

Next week it will be revealed that Tim Smith is himself a clone of a successful former food industry chief executive, thus sparking renewed debate about what can go wrong in the process.

I have been enjoying all of this at arm's length though in constant CrackBerry contact from my first yurt-based glamping holiday. It turns out that far from the rolling countryside and deserted coves of the brochures, the West Country is a god-forsaken place almost entirely covered by retail parks and blubbery bright pink chavs.

Have therefore returned to Hampstead and re-erected yurt in the back garden with the added advantage that I don't have to sleep in the bloody (though pretty) thing!