I am very anxious about binge drinking.

Apparently, if you consume more than five units of alcohol in an evening then you are called a ‘binge drinker’.

This applies to me, but the ‘binge drinker’ label strikes me as ludicrous, as that amount seems perfectly normal and healthy, and most people would not recognise it as excessive. It is as unfair as branding somebody a ‘sex addict’ just because they masturbate more than five times in an evening.

I brought this up over dinner on Saturday, and our guests seemed embarrassed and upset. Perhaps they are secret binge drinkers. Or secret sex addicts. Either way it is troubling. I have always tried to be a responsible member of society and now I find that a mere dictionary definition has locked me into a Hogarthian downward spiral, destroying all self-respect and more than likely turning me into a delinquent and a purveyor of petty crime.

Truly I am just like that Pete Doherty from the Libertines pop group, with readers coming here every day perhaps to marvel at my creative brilliance, but really to see whether I have finally crashed and burnt after more than two and a half pints in the Village Pub.

Except that I have not shagged Kate Moss. Which if I’m honest is unlikely to happen (as she lives in London and I live in Norfolk.)

(Although there are trains every hour and I would be able to stay over if she wanted).

My wall has been flattened!!!

The LTLP admitted she ‘may have scraped it’ on backing the car into the drive.

I go outside to investigate. It looks as if it has been caught in a collision between an articulated lorry and Matthew Le Tissier.

I shake my head. At this point it would be a cheap shot to have a go at ‘woman drivers’ etc, but actually it is a fact that they are much safer than men drivers and have fewer accidents. I think this is probably because we listen to proper driving music in the car, whereas they have Dido, Norah Jones etc, which makes them go slower.

Plus, some hard core male drivers get themselves illegal back-street lobotomies, so they can enjoy BBC’s popular ‘Top Gear’ programme on the television.

I didn’t like the wall much – it was architecturally undistinguished – but I did prefer it to what I have now, which is ‘some bricks’. I pick some pieces out of the street and sort of balance them on top of each other to create a temporary wallette. The kerb appeal of the house is not restored.

I put ‘rebuild the wall’ on my list of DIY jobs to do in the spring. It will be exciting. I have never built a wall before, and I am eager to give it a go.

I have discovered what the police dog teams and armed response units were doing in the village.

It was not a Dennis Hopper type homicidal maniac at all. It was a man stealing lawnmowers!!!

He had been at work in one of the villages further up the coast, and was tailed by a vigilant constable as he attempted his escape. Other policemen headed him off at the pass.

I expect you will soon see it on ‘Britain’s Wildest Police Chases’.

It was unfortunate for the lawbreaker AND LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU ALL that if you commit crime round here the closest police unit is often the royal protection squad at Sandringham. These officers are always very bored, as when they’re not protecting us from the royals they have little else to do. I imagine it is really exciting for them to have to run through bushes chasing a proper criminal.

If I were them I would have cornered the villain before whipping out my gun, waving my badge and shouting “Sweeney Todd!!! Flymo Squad!!!”

For my part I am relieved that Mr Blair and Mr Brown stopped fighting each other long enough to catch this particular offender.

Sometimes I think they do not understand that whilst they flick guacamole at each other at their Islington dinner parties, serious crime like this is running rampant.

Being part of the European Weblog Award thing has humbled me as I am very ignorant about other European countries.

The chap who is currently in the lead, for instance, writes his blog all in French. I could not manage that.

I went to Paris once and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It was just after the LTLP and I (grammar) first met and we loved it even if there was lots of dog shit everywhere, including one bit in the supermarche (that is French for supermarket) by the deli counter.

I am also a big fan of Georges Brassens, Jacques Tati and Daphne du Maurier.

As I am falling behind in the voting a bit I have decided to make an extra effort to appeal to a wider audience, so I was up all night painstakingly translating this.

When I’d finished, I thought it was the funniest thing I’d ever read.

But then I’d had a couple of beers.

Another rabbit insurgence.

There – munching on a pot plant, stuffing his insolent rabbity face.

I stare at him through the French windows. (French windows are like normal windows, only oral.)

There is a fundamental lack of understanding between us that I can solve either by brute force or by diplomacy. I’d prefer to do the latter, however communicating with the rabbit kingdom is proving tough. I cannot get my ‘do not eat the plants’ message across.

I have a brainwave and start preparing a PowerPoint presentation.

What I’ll do is start it off with images of a human and a rabbit side by side. “A presentation to – THE RABBITS”. Then I’ll do a couple of ‘Key objectives for today’ slides and a bit of background on how we’ve coexisted peacefully for the past few years.

I’ll probably get the letters flying in from the left with a typewriter noise. That is always useful. Then I’ll conclude with a recap of what we’ve discussed and a ‘Thank you for listening’ slide.

I will then hand out copies of the presentation. (It is important to do this after I have finished as otherwise they will read them first and not concentrate on what I am saying).

There will be an opportunity for questions.

Ooooh!

It’s like the BAFTAs and the Oscars all in one!

I have an issue with the rabbits.

The rabbits are generally entertaining. They frolic around the garden. Despite my being a hard-hearted alpha male, they amuse me with their rabbitty ways.

In return for this, I allow them the run of the lawn and do not eat them.

It is a good arrangement that has worked well over the years. But for the first time, they have started eating my plants.

I don’t know what has provoked this, but I cannot just stand idly by. They have struck at the very heart of my world. In fact, I am concerned that they have formed some sort of wild animal axis of evil with the rats that have been spotted in Short Tony’s garden. I may have to capture some and take pictures of them in some sort of rabbit pyramid or engaged in simulated sexual acts.

That will teach them. But they will probably not mind the latter, as they are rabbits.