Hedgehog!

Observe the Great British Hedgehog in its natural habitat -- our back garden! Well, in true Sheffield terraced housing style, there is just one garden shared between us and our neighbours, divided only by the path between the two lawns, so technically he's snuffling around in the neighbours' half. Anyway, he showed up a couple of weeks ago to stomp around looking for dinner before hedgehogging off down the passage between the houses ... towards the road! God speed you Hedgey, noble beast, prickler of hands and bearer of ticks!

Note for the unaware: "hedgehog!" should be said as it is heard in Bob's Guide To Housework.

Meanwhile, God willing, or at least if the nation's grandmothers are too sherried-up by saturday teatime to dial in and vote for him, this post will be my last chance to complain about song-slaying junior freakshow Ray off The X-Factor. Ask no questions about why I watch the X-Factor -- the enslaved by television post will be along soon -- and just concentrate on the fact that from an array of twelve more-or-less talented hopefuls, this bizarre concoction has survived to the last three. In the words of Screen Burn, Ray is a "jigging, Brylcreemed cross between a ventriloquist's dummy and a screaming otter foetus who hits every note with a hammer". Please tune in to this week's semi-final and direct bad vibes his way. Or at least punch him in your dreams.