Whatever Floats Yer Boat

Shoes don't do it for me. I have one pair of shoes (yep, one), some trainers, and boots which are falling to pieces.

Clothes don't do it for me either. Nor does jewellery, makeup, hairstyles or Heat magazine.

What does it for me in the Biggest Way is books. If my home insurance company saw how much bound paper I have stashed in the house, they'd cancel my policy on the grounds of it being a fire hazard.

As a chronic and incurable bibliophile, I often grab people fiercely by the arm and holler, "You must read this! It's brilliant!" Terrifies the life out of them, but I can't stop myself. I think people who read a book and then throw it away are heathens and philistines who should be given a damn good thrashing. The scariest film I've ever seen is Farenheit 451.

Rubbish books are usually tossed across the room with a frustrated cry of anguish (half an hour of my life wasted on drivel), but the good ones are cherished and stroked and reverently taken care of.

I'm reading a good one at the moment, and in true bibliophile manner I feel obliged to grab you by the arm and rave about it in a really hysterical and slightly demented way. I bought it at the airport thinking it was a bit of holiday fluff. It's had me howling with laughter.

"I returned from the local nightclub at 3am to find a fracas erupting in the snooker room. A group of German bankers had several of my executives up against a wall and were threatening to punch their lights out. I regret to say that when one of the bankers shouted, 'You started zis!' I shouted back, "No ve didn't - you invaded Poland!"

Can you guess what it is yet? How about this, which had me rolling around on the carpet wiping the tears from my eyes and gasping for air:

"Martin Dunn, former No.2 on The Sun, once ran a story about Boy George buying a new house. Unfortunately they pictured the wrong property and the owner rang Kelvin in a fury, demanding to know what he was going to do about the fact that 2,000 screaming transvestites were outside his home. 'Dunn!' he screamed.

Martin sloped into Kelvin's office, his shoulders slunk back in anticipation of the impending thrashing. He saw Kelvin's bulging neck veins, mad staring eyes and half-clenched fist, and decided there was no course of action left to him other than to pretend to faint. So he collapsed face down on to the floor, falling convincingly flat and hard. Kelvin ran over, picked Martin up by his left ear, and said calmly, 'You'd better be dead, Dunn, because if you're not you f***ing soon will be."

The Insider - Private Diaries of a Scandalous Decade by Piers Morgan. If you work in the city centre, go out at lunchtime and Buy This Book. If you're at home, order it off t'internet. Just get it and read it, it's good.

[No bribery was taken in the writing of this post, but bribes willingly accepted if someone's willing to offer me one. Next week, why I love Toshiba laptops so much - Toshiba, get in touch.]

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