The queue snaked into the distance as far as the eye could see - it stretched out of WH Smith and deep into the concourse of Waterloo.

The queue was full of people who, probably for the first time, had had to leave a shop to find the back of the queue to wait in line to get back into the shop to pay for their purchase.

The queue was almost without exception made up of men, with a collective look etched upon their faces which screamed out: "It's 6pm on the evening before Valentines night. I've left the card-buying to the last minute, so I'll grab what's left from WH Smith or else face the rest of my life devoid of testicles".

Was I one of those men? I couldn't possibly comment.

..this afternoon I received what must count as the best comment on this blog so far from 'Worcester Park Gal' - a living and breathing argument for sterlisation if ever there was one - who exhausted both available brain cells by writing:

"I dont get this site, i stumbled upon this by mistake, are u all adults talkin bout wot goes down in worcester park, do u hav a life???????? i mean yer we live in a kewl place but writin bout stupid choclate oranges 1/2 price on whsmiths, can u b more wierd? all i can say is i hope i dont meet any of u walkin down the street in the future!!!! o well all least most a d kl kids live in worcester prk, lol, have fun writin more intrestingh facts bout a town that not may ppl even know!"

Well thank you Miss Pollard. In reply (and xcuse me 4 nt replyin in txt spk):

Hi Worcester Park Gal - am I bovvered?? I'm not surprised you don't get this site. You don't seem to get much. We can talk about 'wot goes down in Worcester Park' (I'll take a wild guess that you do, quite frequently) but in answer to your question, yes - we can be more wierd (sic) so I'll try not to mention choclut oranges or pollyticks'n'stuff in future. Personally, I doubt we'll meet you 'walkin down the street' as my guess is you don't get much further than The Hunstman's. Anyway, thanks for your insightful comments and your contribution to the knowledge of mankind. You are the pride of Worcester Park.

The delightful Worcester Park Gal stumbled across the site, my stat counter tells me, having searched for 'Worcester Park saturday jobs'. Try the Seasonal Shop. You'd fit in marvellously there.

There's nearly always a glossy women's magazine of some
description in the bathroom (to use the American euphemism) here at
Worcester Park towers. For the past three weeks it's been the bumper
Christmas edition of 'Reveal' (Now only £1), so I've had Martine
McCutcheon smiling at me as I empty my bowels for the past 21 days.
That's got to be worth at least £1.

I'm getting a little worried, though, as I the only time I ever read
womens' magazines are on these visits to the toilets, and the
association has been building for over two years now. It's grown to the
point that I am now terrified to pass the women's magazine shelves
at W H Smith lest I have some scatalogical pavlovian reaction on
seeing them.

Anyway, I digress. Back on the toilet, I flick to the letters
page of Reveal magazine - letters, as one might expect, from
women. With one exception - a man who had written in (no doubt after
reading the magazine on the toilet) to praise the mag for noting
the impact of a trauamtic event on men as well as women.

His letter shone like a beacon of testosterone in a sea of nail
varnish. In fact so impressed was the Editor by this masculine
contribution that she awarded it Star Letter.

What, Dear Reader, did this chap receive as reward for his Star Letter? A limited edition pink Motorola mobile phone. Now even I'm not that much of a new man...