Illness insists that I remain resting on the sofa, so apart from these brief sojourns to my computer when utter TV hell boredom sets in, that is mainly what I�ve been doing.

Lying, wrapped in my duvet with a leopard skin print hot water bottle on my tummy I have watched crap TV show after crap TV show, contemplated the state of British TV today, wondered at what on earth induced the BBC to employ Dom Joly in his own chat show, and have generally become convinced that telly isn�t like it used to be.

Apart from the delivery of the aforementioned hot water bottle by someone very kind, I�ve been on my own all day, which is an unusual state of affairs; I don�t think I�ve been ill on my own for a very, very long time. But I found it strangely liberating in a lonely sort of way, after all, if I can be ill on my own, I can manage anything without the help of anyone.

Can�t I?