Here is my recipe for a mood enhancer. Take a friend, preferably one with a really annoying fringe and outsize pants, and when she is rambling on swiftly, push her into a ditch and run away.

Mum said, "It is the thought that counts." And I said, "I know, which is why I am ringing the authorities right now. Anyone who thinks like she does should be locked up out of harm's way.

Tom is back on a flight at 6:15 P.M. That is 6:15. Do you get it? Not 6:00 P.M. but 6:15 P.M. And do you know how many minutes that is? I do. I have also become a Time Lord.

Look, I can't go out with you, because... because... because I'm a lesbian.

You make me laugh like a loon on loon tablets!

The fly in her argument is that when she says, 'they' will feel like lemons, we don't know who 'they' are. And 'they' might BE lemons.

P.P.S. I am giving you telepathic hugs. P.P.P.S. But not in a telepathically lezzie way.