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I see Nestle has decided to launch Cock Soup this week. This is not, as I feared some cheesy offering, but rather a dish made from male chickens which is rather popular amongst Jamaicans.

I worry about the branding of this one. Nestle rather sniffily says it can't see any problem with naming its soup after a fowl, but it's bound to lead some of the more naive members of the female population into believing it is, after all, good to swallow the stuff.

Strange though that this offering should make it to our supermarket shelves, and yet I see no signs of the rather delightfully named Fanny Tuna, popular amongst the Spanish making it to Tescos. Neither are we queuing up to import Piss Lemonade a firm favourite of the French, over here, although I imagine the idea sounds about as appealing to most females as Nestle's offering.

Another barmy marketing idea comes from John Smith, which this week introduces talking widgets in its cans. The in-can widget, made famous by Jack Dee and his penguin supporting cast, has now been made more sophisiticated than before when it was merely capable of frothing your ale.

Now drinkers opening one of the winning packs of the beer will be greeted with a message telling them they have won a cash prize. I can only hope this can be developed further.


Just imagine the benefits of an intelligent widget.

A loud warning just in time to stop you drunkenly confiding in the boss that you weren't really ill that day but really - Ho ho! shagging Anthony from the postroom. Inbuilt sensor detectors to tell you that if you persist in trying to get that 16-year-old barman home you will never live it down and spend a good half an hour the next morning trying to gnaw your arm off to escape. Alert sensors to tell you that there's spew on your chin, your skirt's tucked in your knickers and the entire pub gathering isn't really being held in hysterics by your fascinating wit.

This loss of mystique presumably has never been a problem for a particular blonde lovely, who inexplicably was featured in the front page of The Sun this week. The reason - she had had 21 lovers in seven months - a headline backed up with a lengthy analysis of how she was neglecting her child, putting her moral and physical welfare at risk etc etc.

Twenty one? In twenty eight weeks? Surely this is but the national average? I fail to see the problem with this. Twenty one in one night - fair enough the girl deserves applause. But the only mystery I can see in this is what the hell she had been doing for the remaining ??? weeks.

This is presumably around the figure that Fergie is hoping to clock up, having announced in OK magazine this week that it was definitely over with Andy and she was looking for another date.

I'm not sure she' s going about in the right way. According to The Sunday Mirror she's about to sign up to play Bodicea in a new blockbuster movie.

The part apparently calls on Fergie to appear naked being flogged, and to film battlescenes where she wears nothing but war paint.

Having once described her arse as looking like "a sack of ferrets" I am not entirely convinced, WeightWatchers or no, that this is the way for Fergie to woo her man.

Still, evidence emerges this week that Fergie's behaviour has been less weird than others in royal circles. According to that reliable organ The People, two children who lived in a 12th Century English village were actually aliens from outer space.

They had green skin, ate only green food and spoke a language no-one understood but this didn't stop them marrying into Royal circles. Despite these rather obvious external characteristics, it has taken until today for the alien connection to be made. Of course, any member of the Royal Family today who was found spewing up regular food, talking absolute tosh that made no sense and committing senseless acts would be outed immediately.

Still there's some happy news from the Royals this week - namely that the corgies foot problems are at an end. According to The Express, Douglas Buchanan, the man who invented knife-proof vests has been asked to design new leather and nylon booties to protect the sore royal doggy footsies in those cold marble corriders of Buckingham Palace.

So Phoenix, Pharos and Kelpe - the Royal corgies got lucky. Less lucky were their other doggy pals who have been apparently cross bred with Dauschunds to produce the new breed - Dorgies.

Interesting move by her Majesty. I can only hope she doesn't take the programme further though. Dauschunds and collies would give us Dollies. Collies and boxers, the rudely name Coxers. And whereas the corgies would doubtless enjoy a sesion with an Old English, I fear there are quite enough orgies going on with the Royals already.