Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home

Monkeys! I am currently working for a client who seem to subscribe to the Infinite Monkey Theorem. It is the only plausible explanation behind their recruitment policy. I could, had I the time or inclination, catalog all the stopping, the starting, the hmmmm-ing, the haw-ing and the back-to-the-drawing-board-ing that has been the bane of my very existence for the past number of weeks. Instead, I will sum the whole experience, the whole organisation, their very ethos up in the following 10 words...

Left hand, I'd like to introduce you to right hand

But I digress...

I had the misfortune to catch the last few minutes of Miss Universe Ireland on TV3 on Sunday evening. I despise beauty contests, all that they stand for, all that they represent and the shallow, skin deep lessons they impress on people too young or immature to know better. How many young girls, having watched a parade of peroxide blondes talk about how they wanted to use their breasts to help orphaned children in Africa (I don't know - I said I only caught the last few minutes) are now convinced that aspiring to be pretty and wear a long flowing designer dress are worthwhile, substantial aspirations?

I doubt I have ever witnessed such a vapid, soulless display of style over substance - and that was just Alan Hughes.

The winner received, among other things, a luxury apartment in CityWest. I wonder if it was the one Katie French used to live in?