David A

I don't know whether the ones who wrote 'PUSEY' on my bonnet needed a slap or a remedial spelling lesson more. They'd clearly missed the 'C is for cat' one.

The A3 and Golf are the same car under the skin, as are the Skoda Octavia and Seat Leon. They're all built on the same platform and have identical powertrains unless you're going for a performance model. Likewise the Mazda 3 and Ford Focus. They're the same car with different panels, trim and marketing departments. You're already in the automotive equivalent of elasticated slacks, so I'd go full beige and get a Hyundai. Or, if you don't mind people seeing that you've really let yourself go and stained yourself, a Kia.

Has James got an 'OFF' button?

Bugger Blowers, his bus obsession is getting a bit much this series. But Boycott on Botham in his prime, on TMS a couple of minutes ago: 'Broad shoulders, narrow waist, big backside'. He's getting more like Alan Bennett every day. And there's still tickets for Sunday for ?45.

There's one in the back garden of the Rye.

It's in the estate at the top of Fenwick, Cyclemonkey. It is very loud but more worryingly someone's just changed the vibe from lover's rock to late Luther, Lionel and Stevie - not even the early stuff. At least it's pretty eclectic, I'm kind of looking forward to King Tubby vs USA for Africa later.

Is it Sure Build on Kirkwood Road?

JohnL, there's the Opera Terrace at the opposite end, which is now a Raymond Blanc thing. At the same end as the Punch and Judy there used to be a place called Bar Gritte which was marked by an apple wearing a bowler hat. They used to do rare groove/acid jazz nights in the nineties - all beards, corduroy and 'Wild and Crazy Guy' hats. The best pub around there is the Nell Gwynne, down a ginnel between Maiden Lane and the Strand. They still have rolls wrapped in cellophane behind the bar and a jukebox.

*Bob* wrote Working titles of some shows I worked on that never made it to transmission: "Twelve Angry Celebrities" "The Gay Team" "Celebrities on Horses" ***** The problem you've got there, *Bob*, is that there's not enough Russell Howard in there for the BBC3 commissioning editors. Here's a few I'm quite confident about. "Russell Howard's Russells". From Grant to Brand, and Kane to the titular Howard, Russell Howard discovers what makes witless tits called Russell think they can make a living making people laugh. "Russell Howard's Howerd". Lazy-eyed Russell looks back on the career of legendary British funny-man Frankie Howerd. "Russell Howard: The Boss I'd Get!". The cross-eyed 'comedian' tells us what sort of boss he'd like when people see through his act and he has to get a real job. "Russell Howard's Rustle". Live coverage of Howard's twitching, twisted body lying under a pile of autumn leaves after a particularly vicious hammer attack.

Already have *Bob*. If I can get Nick Grimshaw or Russell Howard on board it'll be nailed on at BBC3.

It is, and always has been, X Factor with a Business Studies OND or BGT in its first grown-up suit. Watching delusional buffoons making prize tits out of themselves in front of a pantomime twat seems to be what UK viewers want. Even as an ex TV buyer at an ad agency I'm at a loss to understand why, but as long as people realise that its fine. The problem for me is that, like X Factor or BGT, some young people genuinely see the contestants as something to aspire to. One of the contestants referred to herself as a 'Cosmetics Entrepreneur', when in reality she'd probably been an Avon lady in her summer holidays. The Welsh one, who makes me think Ray Reardon was still putting it about in the Valleys twenty-odd years ago, describes himself as company director. Bollocks, sunshine, you're a git. I honestly think its down to 'The Apprentice' that I've had to deal with graduate interviewees who won't explain just how proficient they are with Excel, but can't wait to tell you how they have excellent negotiating skills and strategic vision. Like the contestants on the show, they lack the most basic maths, communication skills or self-awareness and have replaced them with a fancy shirt, management-speak and a Twitter account. If the BBC wanted to make a show which reflected the true nature of the younger generation's destiny they should re-christen the show 'The Apprenticeship' and make science post-grads from UMIST and Imperial wrestle, Greco-Roman style, for the chance to train as a plumber.

It's very widespread and not always so subtle. It happened to us in Paris a couple of months ago, accompanied by the most animated 'Ooh la la! Qu'est-ce que c'est?' I'd heard since 'Inky' Fenton found the cartoon penis we'd drawn in his 'Longman's Audio-Visual French' teachers' edition.

Judging by the 'Main Language' figures, East Dulwich's 'Little Tuvalu' quarter is a very lonely place.

I'm in Toronto at the moment and had great hopes for a place here called 'Urban Amish', but it's turned out to be a shop selling sturdy furniture for new condos rather than somewhere for bearded blokes to buy ?Phat Farm? dungarees and bearded women to buy 'Juicy Couture' bonnets. The 'Urban Woodsman' look is done without any irony here, but it does look like there?s an international 'Bear Bash' going on. I?ve got a re-wiring job on in the Jewish area tomorrow and it's cold, so I'm fully expecting to see the 'Hasidic Construction Worker' look: Carharrt jackets; plaid shirts; trucker hats; big beards and payots. It?ll be like a Grandaddy concert on a West Bank settlement. But very, very cold.

Pretty much any pub with a flat roof should be avoided, and anywhere with a 'Big Steak Pub' poster from nineties still in the window. And the Downham Tavern - 30,000 displaced inner Londoners and one pub was never going to be a good idea. The Greyhound at the end of Peckham Hill Street isn't scary, but it's a genuine 'Star Wars' bar. You feel like you're showing off just by having all your own limbs and the power of speech.