Let's unpack this for a moment: if, as I imagine, their intention is benign wouldn't it be more an indication of their pleasure or gratitude to leave us a tip; but if, as I project, their intention is to secure an increased gratuity, wouldn't their phone number be more effective? The real issue in this conundrum, is that the gesture is so lacking in style, totally without intensity, flagrantly without real emotion that we shouldn't tip them at all.

I've received restaurant bills with little sketches similar to Liberace's excessive autograph that featured a grand piano with burning candles, Smileys are commonplace nowadays while full-palate drawings are only a step away.

Am I being unnecessarily grumpy or has my tolerance for claptrap worn thin? Either way, I'm probably eating out too much.

This morning, my need for unexpected bathroom thrills lead me into trouble. I thought, in the interests of efficiency, that I would concertina what is usually two activities. Today, in place of grooming while standing in front of the mirror, I would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and do, what I usually do standing, while sitting on the loo.

Brilliant, I thought, what a great way to save time. So, with the newspaper propped up on the stool, I began: Reading Ben Trovato's column in the Cape Times always helps me in the loo, so that was where I began today. However, as is usual for me, I didn't think this idea through carefully enough. I'm a big-picture kind of guy, and this big picture looked peachy. Applying underarm deo was a cinch, and brushing my hair into its usual handsome coif a piece of pie. The real problem occurred, while simultaneously laughing at Trovato's lame-brained attempts to renegotiate his rent, experiencing relief and squeezing out a pea-sized amount of moisturiser. I won't be surprised if I break into spots by the end of the day after applying a week's supply in error. Never mind.