Congratulations to Michael Phelps on his record-breaking eight golds at the Limpics. As a big swimming fan, with a bit of (amateur) competing behind me, I'm very happy for him.

Phelps facts

He was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder when he was nine

He used to be scared of putting his face in the water

His Mum's a teacher

He's 6'4, with a wingspan of 6'7

He has size 14 feet

He spends 2-5 hours in the water every day

His middle name is Fred

His nickname is Gomer

He likes rap music

He has a pet bulldog called Herman

I've just got Sky+

This is because I hardly ever watch the TV, so I have a theory that I can at least catch some good bits when I do. I also go to bed around 10pm most nights and the best stuff's often on after that. You can record radio too - which is a great boon.

I spent today painting the house.

Congratulations to Jaime, Matt and Alfie on the arrival of Evie!

I have a dilemma.

I'm from the north but I've lived more than half my life in the south, and I pretty much speak RP English (aka BBC/Oxford/Queen's English) - with one exception. I use short As. In other words, I say 'grass' as in 'ass'.

It's not a problem and, until now, I've rather liked having a small souvenir phoneme which reminds me of Newcastle.

A few years ago, a frightfully posh BBC producer picked up on it and tried to make me read a script with long As. I refused (quite rightly). But people don't normally comment on it, although my barber noticed it the other day and started quizzing me on where I'm from. And, as we talked, I realised that I'm now deliberately keeping hold of my short As. My natural instinct now is to do long ones.

In fact, I use long As when I'm alone with Bolly and talking to her (as you do). And, when I drop something, I tend to pronounce the exclamation 'blast!' as 'blarst!' because it's an expression I've picked up since living down south.

And - yes, heretical I know - I now feel just as much allegiance, if not more, to the south as I do to the north.

So - I'm thinking of having a trial 'Long A Day' - possibly today. Should I announce it? Will anyone notice? Will I feel odd? Will I sound like The Queen? I don't know. It's actually rather exciting.

Hello again from Hertford. I'm back from deepest Essex. Boll seems pleased to see me and slept on the bed last night.

I've just realised it's exactly ten years today since the last edition of Radio 4's Afternoon Shift programme which dominated my life for three years when I was a daily features reporter.

It was great fun (even if I frequently stayed in Broadcasting House till 1 or 2 in the morning, editing on tape with a razor blade). I made some fantastic friends, met some extraordinary characters and I still miss it.

The odd thing is that it just feels like five minutes since the final programme and the somewhat riotous after-show party with a 'Titanic' theme.

But I'm well aware that I've done a lifetime's worth of stuff since then - reported on Home Truths and Front Row, presented 15 documentaries, moved to Oxford then Hertford, set up a media company, got through a mini-stroke and heart surgery, brought up three rabbits and a cat, worked everywhere from LA to Bangkok etc etc etc

Still - April 30 1998 feels like yesterday. I vividly remember the final on-air goodbyes, followed by champagne in the corridor outside B16. Then there was the party in a Kensington ballroom. I was dressed as a sailor and got appropriately tipsy with Laurie, Daire and various programme-friendly celebs like Beryl Bainbridge. And we rounded it off in Balans restaurant in Soho - having Eggs Benedict and lots of coffee at 6am.

As you probably know, Laurie (Taylor) is still on Radio 4 and sounding as eccentric, witty and clever as ever. I still pop up on the air when I feel like it, as do most of the other reporters. And Daire (Brehan) is now a high-flying barrister at the Inns of Court.

What was once the Afternoon Shift office - Room 800 on the top floor of BH - is now a glass penthouse occupied by Front Row.

It was definitely a love/hate programme, but I certainly had a great time working on it. And it's good to hear its spirit still pretty obviously haunting the airwaves.

Hello to anyone reading this who had any connections with the show. Hope you're well. Keep it quirky.

'Try everything once, apart from incest and folk dancing,' said Sir Thomas Beecham, and I've always found this to be useful advice. I've also made a point of avoiding flashing - until this morning.

It wasn't my fault. My bedroom isn't overlooked - except by the occasional chaffinch, squirrel or cat. So I occasionally pootle around, um, au naturel after my morning bath.

What I didn't bank on at 8.30 on a Sunday morning was two tree surgeons in the tree directly outside - just a few feet away from the window. They were brandishing chainsaws and looking straight at me.

So - I waved at them. Of all the stupid things to do - I waved, making zero attempt to cover anything up. And one of them politely waved back.

It was all terribly English. After the waving stopped, I got dressed, and they went on as if nothing had happened.

Radio 4 newsreader Charlotte Green corpsed (got the giggles) yesterday morning while reading an obituary on the flagship 8am news bulletin.

The problem was that the obit followed an archive recording, which a colleague said sounded like a bee trapped in a jar.

Here's the clip. Just click to listen.

Download file

I'm sure Charlotte wouldn't mind me sharing this recording I made with her for one of my features. It's her distinctive rendition of a famous Boney M lyric. She read it very well, as you'd expect (without corpsing) but I suspect she'd never heard the original track.

Download file

This sweet chicken appears on the front of my Easter card from Mum and Dad. Mum's very talented at embroidery and makes wonderful cards which she sells for charity.

A confession. I have beige carpets. They were just here when I moved and I've not got round to replacing them.

Beige carpets are an abomination. The Carpets of the Beast. The road to Hell is paved with beige and the Devil himself wears a beige blouson. It says so in The Bible.

The problem I have is that my drugs of choice are (1) real coffee and (2) red wine. My carpets don't take kindly to this. It threatens their insipidness.

Beige carpets are the Methodists of the carpet world. Every time I go near a mug of coffee or glass of Merlot, a sinister force causes a spectacular spillage. It's like living in a beige Bermuda Triangle.

I spend half my life spraying stain-remover. I'm keeping the Vanish company afloat single-handedly.

The other day, not one but two friends ('A' and 'A') spilt large glasses of Cabernet on the Carpet of Despond within minutes. They did, as Shakespeare would say, the multitudenous beige incarnadine. I removed it though, with the help of more Vanish and lots of frantic Lady-Macbeth-type scrubbing.

Cue Bolly - who sidled in looking unimpressed and was spectacularly sick on the same patch. It was terracotta-coloured, verging on mustard, with leaves in it.

More scrubbing. Beigeness restored.

Then another friend - 'H' - popped round for a cuppa and promptly threw an entire mug of Twinings English Breakfast within inches of the epicentre.

That's now gone, thanks to Vanish and more scrubbing.

The carpets are demonic and must go.

Peter, surrounded by my Thai cats

A big thank you to James and Nicola for Peter the Peacock. He's very well behaved and likes to perch on top of the TV, flanked by small cat bodyguards.

A very happy Christmas from Bollinger and me.

I've finally had my tooth taken out in hospital (sorry - the tooth saga has somewhat eclipsed my peacockshocking recently) and I'm back home for two weeks off.

See you again when Boll and I emerge from hibernation in early January 2008.

I'm worried it's too big and people will think I'm being all extravagant and nouveau riche. Advice please.

If I hear another TV presenter say 'thanks very much indeed for that', I'll throw a brick at the television.

I spent far too much of yesterday obliterating all traces of orangeness from the bathroom. It's now a tasteful white, with a pleasing wood-framed mirror from Wiggintons.

According to chromotherapists, orange relates to your pelvic chakra and is good for your sanity.

However - an excess of orange can cause 'confusion, tiredness, and pessimism.'

I've been painting since 7am and have eradicated most of the orange, but it's still peeping through. If I have to do 15 coats of white, then so be it.

It's 3.40 am and I'm awake, fretting about the orangeness of the bathroom. I just went in there, hoping it might look less orange, but it seems to have deepened overnight. Now I know what it must feel like if you're an insect and you accidentally land on David Dickinson's face. I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn, buy some extremely white matt emulsion from Focus and exorcise the orangeness to oblivion before breakfast.

What have I done? I had one of my whims and decided I wanted my insipid bathroom to look like a Tuscan palazzo. So I went to Focus and bought a pot of terracotta paint.

It wasn't terracotta. It was orange. About the same shade of orange as Dolmio Creamy Tomato Pasta Bake.

The bathroom now looks like Judith Chalmers has exploded all over it.

Rufus

A big thank you to Laurence for converting me to the excellent Rufus Wainwright. I've just downloaded the album Want One and it's sublimely brilliant. Here's one of the lyrics -

Vibrate

My phone's on vibrate for you.
Electroclash is karaoke too.
I try to dance Britney Spears.
I guess I'm getting on in years.

My phone's on vibrate for you.
God knows what all these new drugs do.
I guess to have no more fears
But still I always end up in tears.

My phone's on vibrate for you
But still I never ever feel from you.
Pinocchio's now a boy who wants to turn back into a toy.

So call me,
Call me the morning, call me in the night.
So call me,
Call me anytime you like.

My phone's on vibrate
For you, for you.

The water tank developed a small leak when I was in Thailand, so I got a plummer in.

After a lot of fumbling, he emerged with a grim discovery. A human foot, fossilised by limescale.

'Don't worry boss,' he said. 'It's a woollen hiking sock. Someone must have bunged it in the tank a long time ago to stop it dripping.'

He said this was the first sock he'd ever encountered in a water tank in a 20 year career and appeared to find it very amusing. I was relieved that it was a good quality sock and have put it on display in the porch. Friends have variously described it as 'disturbing' and 'downright spooky'. But I quite like it and may enter it for the Turner Prize.

My bewildering quest for new double-glazing continues. Every day this week, I've had salespersons round, bringing demonstration windows with them.

Today's salesman looked like Jim Bowen from Bullseye and turned up without his window. “I'm an old man,” he panted. “I've got a hernia, so I can't carry it from the car. Can I use your loo please? It's my age.”

He then spent two hours – literally - talking me through his tedious brochure and gave me a quote for £9000 – three times yesterday's quote.

"No," I said. So he frantically prodded his calculator and magically got it down to £4500 within minutes.

He then went to the loo again.

“I think I can get it down even more,” he announced when I said no again. And, putting his mobile on speakerphone, he called his boss.

“I've given the gentleman a huge discount but he's declined.”

Loud voice through speaker: “Oh dear. Did the gentleman like our product and did it fulfil all his criteria?”

“Yes.”

“Well. Why has he declined?”

“Don't know. But he's declined our generous offer.”

“Look. Give me a minute and I'll call you back.”

A minute later (still on speaker):

“Hello. I'm prepared to give him the windows for £3500 if he invests in our quality product today.”

“Thank you. What an excellent offer for the purchase of our fine merchandise.”

It was like being on Deal or No Deal with Noel and his Banker. I felt under severe pressure to say yes just to get rid of him.

But I said 'no deal'. The quote went back up to £10,000 and Jim Bowen left, after two and a half hours, in a slight huff.

Last night was fantastic. I love my new look. Broadmoor chic has officially arrived.

I've now managed to cut myself and I'm spurting blood like a maniac. I'm starting to look like Magwitch from Great Expectations. If I go out looking like this, I'll be impounded by dog wardens.

I've just Britneyed myself and may never be able to leave the house again.

During a chaotic bathroom panic a few minutes ago, I concluded that my hair looked a bit too long for a night out in London, so I decided to do a number-two crop. But I forgot to put the number two thing on the clippers and ended up giving myself a 0.5 shave.

I now look like a psycopathic skinhead on the run from a correctional facility. But I'm determined to go out, so will counteract my criminally insane coiffure with studenty combat pants and an emo-ish belt.

I gave in last night and watched BB due to peer-group pressure. Here's my guide to some of the creatures in this year's zoo.

Ziggy

New arrival Ziggy loves his pet dog, which is a very good sign. I predict that Ziggy will have a nervous breakdown on his first day.

Tracey

Tracey is an East Anglian person. She used to be Wurzel Gummidge.

Carole

Carole is the only surviving left-wing person in the UK. She is also abnormally jolly and may have to be sedated with a tranquiliser dart.

Leslie

I like Leslie. She speaks in words. I can understand her.

Laura

Laura is Welsh and insane and will therefore win.

The Twins

Reared in a hencoop on Endemol's sinister 'contestant farm' (grossebruederdimwittfarme) near Eindhoven, they were secretly imported to the company's notorious eugenics laboratories in Borehamwood. Here, their brains were removed and replaced with pink feathers.

Peacockshock predicts that Leslie will lure them into the pool one night using an old copy of Heat magazine. She will then obscure the underwater camera using a pot of greengage jam and drown them, replacing them with two guinea pigs from her suitcase.

They apparently live in Newcastle. I've warned my parents.

It's good to know that Poland's politicians have got their priorities right. In Warsaw political circles, the latest hot debate centres on the sexuality of a purple Teletubby.

Apparently, Tinky Winky poses a grave threat to Polish toddlers. Because he carries a handbag, he's likely to turn them all gay. Ah. So THAT'S how it happens.

Perhaps the Poles have finally found some common ground with the good Christian folk of Moscow who enjoy nothing better than a nice afternoon's gay bashing. Makes a change from poisoning people who disagree with you.

Who cares what Tinky Winky does with his pinky? And since when did gay men go around with handbags? What century are we in? Would someone please remind me.

paw print in paint on living room window sill

I've been painting the house this week. Bollinger's been angelically well-behaved throughout, but she does have a bit of gloss-white Dulux on the tip of her ear and bits of paint on the ends of her whiskers. And there are a couple of suspicious-looking paw prints on a window sill.

'Don't worry,' said the nice Powergen person. 'We can transfer the final balance from your old house to the account of your new house and it will be covered by your first direct debit.'

This seemed sensible. I was told my first direct debit payment in the new house would be £44.

When I phoned up later to enquire about the date of the first payment, I was told it would be £91. Interesting.

And then I got a threatening letter about the final bill from the old house. I phoned up and a nice Powergen person said it was an error and apologised profusely.

A week later, I received a letter from a debt collection company, threatening to take me to court.

I wasn't happy and, in full Paxman mode, phoned up to fulminate.

'Well,' said the gormless operative at the other end. 'The problem is you've moved to a new supplier.'

I demanded a manager. At first, I was told there wasn't a manager. But, when I mentioned the BBC and Watchdog, a manager miraculously materialised.

'Oh dear,' she said. 'We didn't transfer the balance from your old house to your new account. We transferred the balance from your new house to your old account. So it's doubled the final bill from your old house. And the new direct debit's not been set up properly. So it looks like you've got a huge unpaid bill from months ago. I'm very very sorry.'

I demanded a written apology and got one. So it's all ended happily ever after, but I suspect I may be moving to a new supplier in the near future.

When Boll and I moved, we decided to downsize and get a tiny LCD TV, as we've always held that there's an inverse correlation between the dimensions of your TV screen and your IQ.

It arrived. The speakers were no bigger than hamsters and rattled oddly. I also needed binoculars to see the screen. It was the size of a guinea pig.

Also, Bollinger couldn't watch her birds-and-small-creatures video, as she throws herself at the screen while it's on, and she kept knocking the flimsy thing over.

So I've now given in and bought a frighteningly vast TV in a sale. It's not an LCD one so it has a huge bulbous posterior. It also comes with a monstrous stand. But the man in the shop says it has brilliant sound. And he confessed, sotto voce, that it has a better picture than its LCD equivalents. I'm also hoping it will be Bollinger-proof.

It arrives on Saturday. Boll and I are very excited.

Boll watching her birds-and-creatures video

Boll watching birds on TV when she was a kitten

Bollinger and I are currently going round singing 'Grace Kelly' by Mika. He reminds me of Sparks, although I can also see why he's also been compared to Freddy Mercury, The Darkness and Scissor Sisters.

We also like the new Just Jack track 'Starz in their Eyes'.

Both songs are excellent, but annoyingly catchy and difficult to shake off once you've got them looped in your head.

The washing machine installer, who looked like David Beckham in a bobble-hat, turned up at 10. But he couldn't fit it. 'Sorry mate,' he said (mate? mate? Hello?) 'You haven't got the right spiggot and your hose isn't long enough.'

I now have to wait till Thursday, when my friend Pete from Suffolk is coming to Hertford. He knows about such things.

I've been up since the crack of dawn because my new washing machine is due to arrive between 7 and 11 this morning. That means, of course, that it will arrive at three seconds to 11, if indeed it arrives at all.

Moving house went very well. If you ignore the police siege and the explosion.

The siege happened at the end of my old road - a sleepy rustic lane - just as I was trying to move out. Police cars and officers everywhere. A roadblock. Rough young men running around on roofs. Such things don't happen here.

Hertford Mercury report on the siege

After the siege was over, Boll and I moved successfully and were just remarking how quiet it is here in our bosky riverside glade, when there was an explosion upstairs. An odd, muffled sort of bang, accompanied by a peculiar burning smell.

On closer inspection, I discovered an alarming charred hole in the top of the immersion heater.

No hot water for five days. Marvelous.

The plumber said it was caused by a dangerous 30-year build-up of limescale. He then had to demolish the cupboard to get the boiler out and put a new one in. This cost £670.

All is well now. The house is lovely and Boll and I are very happy bunnies.

Bollinger inspects the new house from her windowsill

Boll supervises the move

Bollinger and I are moving tomorrow to our new house near the river.

'I do think New Year's resolutions can't technically be expected to begin on New Year's Day, don't you? Since, because it's an extension of New Year's Eve, smokers are already on a smoking roll and cannot be expected to stop abruptly on the stroke of midnight with so much nicotine in the system. Also dieting on New Year's Day isn't a good idea as you can't eat rationally but really need to be free to consume whatever is necessary, moment by moment, in order to ease your hangover. I think it would be much more sensible if resolutions began generally on January the second.'

Some quotations to uplift and then depress you...

No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.
Charles Lamb (who went to school in Hertford by the way)

Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective.
GK Chesterton

One resolution I have made, and try always to keep, is this: To rise above the little things.
John Burroughs

Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account.
Oscar Wilde

Can one still make resolutions when one is over forty? I live according to twenty-year-old habits.
Andre Gide

New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time.
James Agate

Every New Year is the direct descendant, isn't it, of a long line of proven criminals?
Ogden Nash

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Philip Larkin

Boll and I were up betimes this morning after staying in last night. I was invited to various dinner parties and clubbing escapades and I did go out for an extravagant lunch with friends - before you conclude that I'm some kind of sad blog-bound loner. I just felt like a nice evening in with a bit of classical music and a cup of tea.

I also made a point of not drinking any alcohol whatsoever, which is unusual for me as I rarely make it to 10pm (some might say 10am) without a glass of wine. So I've started off 2007 without a hangover.

It was quite odd being sober as more and more bizarre texts flooded in from increasingly tipsy friends who were clearly losing control of all spelling and political correctness. One wished me: 'Happy Easter 1982, from the Alzheimers Society'.

Peacockshock considers the following to be the top things in their category for 2006. Not all of them came into being in 2006. But it's my list so I can include whatever I want.

Here goes: for 2006, the top...

Pop Single
Don't Feel Like Dancing - Scissor Sisters

Rock Album
Arctic Monkeys - I Am Whatever I Say I Am

Classical Album
Berlin Philharmonic - Complete Beethoven Symphonies

Easy Listening Album
Paul Anka - Rock Swings

Film
Brokeback Mountain

Purchase
New House in Hertford

Fashion Purchase
Trendy wooden wristband thing which I bought in Thailand

Shop
Hertford Pets - Fore Street Hertford

Cafe
Serendipity - Hertford

Non-Fiction Book
Driving Over Lemons - Chris Stewart

Fiction Book
Secret History - Donna Tarrt

Internet Innovation
youtube.com

Bar
Detox Retox - Gran Canaria

Club
Soho House - London

Newspapers
Times
Guardian
Hertfordshire Mercury

Magazines
Your Cat
Mens Health
Attitude

TV Comedy
Catherine Tate Show

TV Drama
Life on Mars

TV Event Show
X Factor

TV 'Reality' Moment
Nikki's tantrums on Big Brother

TV Pop Show
Popworld

TV Sport
World Cup

TV Quiz
Deal or no Deal

TV Blooper
Guy Goma on BBC News 24

Radio
Anything by me of course

Cat
Bollinger

Rabbits
Moët and Florence, who sadly both died within weeks of each other in the spring

Experiences

Celebrating Mum's 80th birthday in Andalucia and visiting the Alhambra in Granada

Dinner on the deck of a cruise ship, en route to the Royal Palace in Bangkok for fireworks to celebrate the Queen of Thailand's birthday

Clubbing and swimming non-stop in Gran Canaria for most of September

My first ever trip to a Water Park

Walking next door's new basset hound

Being described as a 'Media Star of 2006' by The Independent

Meeting new gym partner James

Rediscovering Scrabble, Spanish and swimming

Getting specialist physiotherapy for my balance problem

Hanging out with Bollinger, of course

I promise to stop savaging Ian's cleaners whenever they go into his bedroom.

I promise to stop mugging Ian's friend Frank for no apparent reason. He's a nice cat-friendly person and doesn't deserve it.

I promise not to bite Ian's toes ever again. His toes are connected to him and are not creatures.

I promise to wait till 6am before I wake Ian up by howling and scratching his bedroom door (if locked out) or biting him and putting my paw in his mouth (if admitted to his room).

I promise to overcome my irrational fear of ironing boards.

I promise to accept that children are human beings not dangerous predators.

I promise not to eat flies in a stagey fashion in public - especially when Ian's guests are having dinner.

I promise to watch less television and to stop flinging my copious fluffy frame at the screen whenever a small animal appears in a wildlife documentary.

I promise not to destroy Ian's carpets.

I promise not to terrorise Ian when he cooks broccoli.

I promise not to be offended when people think I'm a boy cat.

I promise to lose weight. I'm currently 6.3 kg and should be under 5.0 kg, but I hope Petplan covers liposuction, as I'm not going on a f***ing diet. No way.

Happy 2007.

Bollinger xxx

Madge from Neighbours

I'm confused. I was watching Emmerdale the other day and Edna Birch and her dog seemed to be having a row with Madge from Neighbours. I also saw a character from Neighbours on The Bill disguised as a policeman. And now The Bill has a policeman who looks just like that guy from Footballers' Wives who was also in Hollyoaks. Am I drinking too much coffee?

It's midnight and I've just finished packing before setting off tomorrow. Packing took about 17 hours.

I have various tried-and-tested packing checklists on my computer and I travel pretty regularly. But packing never fails to take up a stupid amount of time.

And I always mislay my international plug adaptor. Always.

'My parents have always been there for me, ever since I was about seven.'
David Beckham

'Alex Ferguson is the best manager I've ever had at this level. Well, he's the only manager I've actually had at this level. But he's the best manager I've ever had.'
David Beckham

'I definitely want Brooklyn to be christened, but I don't know into what religion yet.'
David Beckham

'If you don't believe you can win, there is no point in getting out of bed at the end of the day.'
Neville Southall

'I've never wanted to leave. I'm here for the rest of my life, and hopefully after that as well.'
Alan Shearer

'I'm as happy as I can be - but I have been happier.'
Ugo Ehiogu

'Leeds is a great club and it's been my home for years, even though I live in Middlesborough.'
Jonathan Woodgate

'I can see the carrot at the end of the tunnel.'
Stuart Pearce

'I couldn't settle in Italy - it was like living in a foreign country.'
Ian Rush

'The Brazilians will be South American, and the Ukrainians will be more European.'
Phil Neville

'I'd rather play in front of a full house than an empty crowd.'
Johnny Giles

'Sometimes in football you have to score goals.'
Thierry Henry

Bollinger and I have just watched the last ever Top of the Pops. TOTP is the same age as me and I've been a viewer on-and-off since I was 12, though not much in its last few years, as I've felt too young and trendy. Watching all the archive clips felt like seeing my life flashing in front of me. I felt an odd pang at the end when Sir Jimmy Savile, 79, turned off the studio power. Boll particularly enjoyed watching David Bowie and Robbie Williams. It was her first viewing of TOTP, being a recent convert to television.

I'm a big fan of Russell Brand who presents BBBM on Channel 4. Last night, he did the best trail I've ever seen. I can't quote it verbatim, but he said something like: 'It's hot and you won't be able to sleep, so just leave the TV on and just stare at the screen.'

Brand, from Essex, used to be a heroin addict. He was sacked from MTV for turning up for work on 12 September 2001 dressed as Osama bin Laden. He describes himself visually as a sort of 'S&M Willy Wonka'. And he's a Smiths fan.

Here are some of my favourite recent quotes from his BB programme:

'I will resort to violence. This is not a democracy. This is Iraq in the good old days.'

'Why don't you open the well of madness that is your mind?'

and...

To Chinese cook Nancy Lam - 'Everything you say sounds like it's come from a fortune cookie written by a mental patient.'

'What dreadful hot weather we have. It keeps me in a constant state of inelegance.' Jane Austen

It's 6.30am and I've been up since 5.15. I decided it might be nice to spend an hour or two in temperatures below 36.6°C.

According to the news, there are dolphins, sharks and whales off the coast of Scotland. Such oddness is wrong. Repent ye for the end is nigh.

I kept my new fan on all night last night, pointing it at my bed. It has an oscillating function, but you can switch off the oscillations by pulling a knob. It also has three speeds. I had it on maximum.

The fan was noisy, but at least it blotted out the sound of the malevolent owl which normally wakes me up between 2 and 5am.

Boll and I were sad to learn of the death of Moose who played Eddie in Frasier. We were big fans.

What an excellent set-piece goal from Beckham. He ought to be made an honorary guinea pig. Come to think of it, he does sound like one. I watched the game alone, as none of my friends like football.

We must beat Ecuador today. They eat guinea pigs in Ecuador. This is very wrong indeed.

Thanks for the suggestions, which have included -

Sue from Sooty and Sweep

Fiona Bruce

Christine Hamilton

Emu

Anne Widdecombe

Dana International

Margaret Beckett

Dame Maggie Smith

AS Byatt

Moira Stuart

Jenni Murray

and

Cherie Blair

I'm not easily shocked, but I have been ruffled by this year's Big Brother - ruffled by the fact that none of them ever talk about anything. I find this really disturbing. The other day, one of them actually said: 'Let's talk about a topic' as if talking about ideas was a school project. Needless to say, they couldn't think of a 'topic' to discuss. I'm not talking about high-brow intellectual discussions - just the odd opinion or thought or cultural snippet. Their thinking just seems so impoverished, which I find sad and sadly typical.

Perhaps I'm just being snobbish (Arabella Weir argued in yesterday's Guardian that watching BB is all about defining yourself within the class system) But I suspect not. I just feel sorry for them. They seem to be missing out on so much pleasure by devoting the whole day to bitching.

That's when you can understand them in between the f***s. Channel 4 now subtitles a large part of the dialogue as they mumble and slur so much - espescially Mikey, who's a graduate. Yes. A graduate.

(The northerners get most of the subtitling down here - I wonder whether they subtitle the southerners up north?)

It might all be in the editing, but it does appear that most of them can't think and can't speak, and do very little apart from bitch and go on about sex.

And I watch them nearly every night.

Here are my nominations for a new assistant:

Bollinger

Nadia from Big Brother

Nikki from Big Brother 2006

Jo Brand

Clarissa Dixon Wright

Mavis from Coronation Street

Karen from 'Will and Grace'

Kim and Aggie from 'How Clean Is Your House?' (they could clean planets, polish daleks etc)

Please send me our suggestions and I'll pass them on to the BBC.

As you may know, there's huge controversy at the moment about a programme which features a group of mentally-challenged egomaniacs in a house. They appear to spend most of their time plotting, forming petty factions, shouting, and jumping in and out of bed with each other.

Well - I've thought long and hard about this and have come to the conclusion that Radio 4's 'Yesterday in Parliament' is doing a great job.

Another contestant has left Big Brother. That's it. I've had enough. Tonight, I intend to protest. I'm going to switch on Channel 4 at 9pm, then storm out of my house in a huff.

I went out for dinner the other night, and my hosts confessed they'd forced themselves to watch Big Brother in order to swot up and have something to talk about. Oh dear. Once upon a time, people would read the TLS or The Guardian to prepare for me.

I'm still an out-and-proud BB watcher, but I am slightly worried it's taking me over. I keep telling myself that I'm a sort of Derrida figure, watching it ironically, intellectually, anthropologically or whatever. But what if I'm watching it just like everyone else?

Regardless - I violently object to anti-BB snobbery from people who've never watched it. If it was dubbed into French, or if they were told it was by Beckett, they'd say it was a work of genius documenting the absurd vacuousness of postmodern existence.

I must admit the housemates appear to be spectacularly superficial this year and all seem devoid of any kind of cultural hinterland. But that may all lie in the storylines and editing. Or perhaps they're just playing up to the cameras more than in previous series.

I'm going to keep watching in any case, but I may try to limit myself to two or three times a week. Thank goodness I haven't got E4.

After being fed up yesterday morning, I treated myself to a long bath, nice shave, facial scrub, number one crop, trip to the gym, sauna, and lots of lattes and I was positively jolly by the afternoon. The moral of the story - never let yourself be dominated by a mood. We all have them, but they do change, and you can usually change them yourself if you put your mind to it.

It's raining. I have a mouth ulcer. I commuted to London all last week. I'm tired. I hate Bank Holidays.

Tanya Turner: I'm very thick-skinned.

Eva de Wolffe (Joan Collins): Well darling - I suggest you use a more expensive moisturiser.

Dr Aric Sigman did in fact read my baseball cap admission, having been tipped off by a grass. His emailed reply to my crie de tête:

"Have antlers grafted on to the upper cranium of your cerebral self. This will prevent any baseball caps or logos settling on your head, thereby protecting your high IQ."

I will take this as a compliment and intend to consult my neurologist.

Dr Aric Sigman

Suggested Cure

I'm having a hat crisis.

I have a warm fleecy floppy Berghaus hat which I wear around the garden, but it's a bit too Alpine for London media circles.

Other than that, I have a nice selection of baseball caps. But I was rather crestfallen to read in John Peel's autobiography that he considered the wearing of baseball hats in the UK to be a symptom of the downfall of Western civilisation. I wasn't aware of this. This explains why John looked so shocked, in an understated manner, when I once jauntily popped into the Home Truths office, innocently wearing my Nike one. "I never thought I'd see the day when Ian Peacock wore a baseball hat," said John cryptically, before returning to his script.

My friend Aric, a psychologist, also hates them and thinks they reduce your IQ (literally and automatically) by 50 points. So I hide all evidence of wearing one when he's in the vicinity. I'm pretty sure he doesn't visit Peacockshock so I think I'm safe.

The thing is - I suspect I actually want to look less clever. That's why I normally wear contacts rather than glasses, which are said to improve perceptions of your IQ. I don't find the Bamber Gasgoigne look, the Woody Allen look, whatever you call it, very sexy.

(Glasses and a baseball hat together are an absolute no-no by the way. In my view, they make you look like a dangerous paedophile or an East Anglian.)

There's the whole William Hague thing too.

The other problem is that I insist only on trendy baseball caps and refuse to compromise with short brims or bland Next-type imitations, which might be more acceptable to my more conservative friends. The brim should be long and as arched as possible, preferably with a bit of tasteful scuffing.

So what options are left to me? It's been claimed by one or two friends that a deerstalker would suit my voice. How very dare they? This will never happen, unless they anaesthetise me and install it surgically.

If I wear my clubby bobble hat, I get attacked by teenagers. This once happened in Marylebone. "Like the hat!" they shouted. It was frightening.

A flat cap would make me look like an unemployed pigeon-fancier. And a beret would make me look like a camp French academic.

What am I to do? This is a genuine crie de coeur - I mean crie de tête.

in my clubby D&G bobble hat

wearing a baseball cap on holiday

sporting a sailor's hat at a fancy-dress party

I thought you might like to know who I really am.

I am in fact a senior trustee of the WRVS, a non-executive chairman of the furniture group MFI, and a director of Lombard Risk Management. I spent most of my career in investment banking and I was also a special adviser to the Bank of England.

I'm also a barrister. I was called to the Bar in 1990. My practice covers property and commercial litigation, including professional negligence and company and insolvency work. I was instructed in the liquidation of BCCI. I have vast experience in neighbour nuisance cases. I'm a Labour Party Councillor in Hackney, London as well, and I stood as a parliamentary candidate in the 1997 General Election.

And I'm a lawyer in Bristol too, where I specialise in professional indemnity litigation.

I also work as Chief Financial Officer at a company called Iora. Before this, I spent ten years in public practice with Ernst & Young and PricewaterhouseCoopers. I have a first class honours degree in Biology & Computer Science from York University and I'm a qualified Chartered Accountant.

Meanwhile, I'm a principal of a financial products company, having spent over eighteen years in international banking with US banks in London. In 1985 I accepted an offer to join Logica, where I was a Principal Consultant. I also worked for a diverse range of clients in the UK and abroad including the Stock Exchange of Hong Kong, Lloyds TSB Group, Barings, Bankgesellschaft Berlin, Barclays, Shell, Credit Suisse and ING.

I'm the Chairman of Mothercare too.

I also find time to be a Canadian Senior Citizen. I was recently quoted in Canada's largest religious weekly, after meeting a group of 'youngsters':
Ian Peacock, 72, added, "We need to have more opportunities to talk like this. We can learn from them and they can learn from us. If we don't keep talking to each other, we start becoming suspicious of one another."

And I'm huge in the world of candles and hobbies, or "hobby's" as we hobbies people like to call them.

My spray-painting talent is legendary in the air-brush community.

And I'm a footballer in Guernsey.

Just thought you'd like to know. I've been misleading you for too long.

Me - being a litigation lawyer in Bristol

Me - being a barrister in London

Me - being a banker

I've been awake since 330am. I suspect this is because I spent most of yesterday drinking coffee. Bollinger, an early riser, is delighted about this. She had breakfast at 5am and is now with me in the study.

My aspidistra has now been given an emergency dose of plant food and inspected by Dr Bollinger who has declared it 'stable but a bit odd-looking.'

My aspidistra is gravely ill and only has one leaf left. I'm at its pot-side as I write. I've had it since I was a teenager, when it was given to me by my retired school headmistress, and it's accompanied me all over England. I'm very attached to it and it's always the first thing I place in the living room when I move house. Please let me know if you have any tips on aspidistra intensive care.

Sincere apologies for accidentally typing 'Artic' instead of 'Arctic' in a previous entry (now corrected). I find myself incandescent with rage whenever people say 'Artic' and deeply regret any offence which I may have inadvertantly caused.

Believe the hype. Arctic Monkeys rock. It's non-stop Monkeys on my iPod.

I'm a big fan of BBC London travel person Nicola Beswick, who always brings an elf-like quality to phrases such as "severe congestion on the Hangar Lane gyratory system." But what on earth was she wearing yesterday morning? Had she just got back from a bat impersonation party? I feel we must be told.

Chantelle

I didn't watch the final of Celeb BB. It was just on in the room. And I was just sitting there.

I was glad it was won by someone who's become famous for not being famous. She seemed like a nice person, despite being spectacularly thick. And she was from Essex, which is next door to Hertfordshire. Her comment on winning: "it's just like, wowsers."

I also liked Barrymore's: "I've got me back. All the rest is extras."

And it was good to see Galloway being booed again. Pompous, self-righteous bully.

As for the others:

Dennis - dull
Faria - sharp
Jodie - gross
Maggot - nice
Pete - paradoxical
Preston - pukka
Rula - bland
Traci - vacuous (can't believe she went to Harvard)

Who would I like as neighbours?

Rula - next door (she'd be nice and quiet and could pet-sit)

Preston and Chantelle - a few doors down the road

Maggot - a few doors further down from them

Pete - perhaps running the local corner shop (good for a few bon mots while buying one's Guardian)

Michael - as long as he was banned from having a swimming pool

George - he could be the street cleaner or refuse collector, but I'd want to shred all my documents first and wouldn't let him near the pets in case he ate them.

Imagine it. It would be just like Desperate Housewives - another programme I never watch.

Which house should George be in?

I saw it this weekend. It's actually about sheepboys rather than cowboys, but it's just as good as they say - stunning scenery, brilliantly understated acting and dialogue, and a leisurely but compelling storyline. One of the best films I've seen for ages.

Thank you to The Independent for naming me as a 'media star' of 2006. Apparently, I'm one of the media people who'll 'make the most impact' this year. How terrifying.

The new Dr Who (BBC1 Christmas Day 7pm) will of course be David Tennant. I thought he was brilliant in Casanova - quirky and mercurial is a good combination. But who is he? Here are some facts which Peacockshock has uncovered (by torturing a dalek):

He's 34
He's Scottish and has a slight Scottish accent in real life
He was born David MacDonald
He chose his new acting surname in honour of Neil Tennant (Petshop Boys)
His father was a church minister
His favourite band is The Proclaimers
He once lodged in Arabella Weir's house
He was in the RSC
He acted alongside Christopher Eccleston (previous Dr Who) in the film Jude
He's described his image as 'geek chic'

And...he intends to do at least two series. Hurrah.

I'm only watching three programmes on TV at the moment: Space Cadets, Bleak House and The X-Factor. And all three are ending this weekend. Why are they doing this to me? There'll be tantrums. I demand a therapist.

Brenda should have won the X-Factor. The British public are tone-deaf and have no taste.

I'm now rooting for Shayne again.

Journey South annoy me by going on so much about being poor northern boys in need of a break. May they be consumed by whippets.

And Andy's a derivative one-croon wonder who also bangs on far too much about being a bin man. May he fall into his wheely bin, along with his miserable-looking toddlers, never to be heard again.

I don't actually watch the X-Factor by the way. I only hear about it from Bollinger.

I'm feeling ruffled. This is because:

(1) I've had no replies to half the emails I've sent this week.

(2) It's December.

(3) My aspidistra is unwell. It only has three leaves. I've had it since I was a student and I don't want it to die.

The Guardian Questionnaire
Ian Peacock

What is your idea of perfect happiness? Not having to do anything.

What is your greatest fear? Pain.

With which historical figure do you most identify? Adonis.

Which living people do you most admire? My parents. The doctors who saved my life this year. All BBC commissioning editors.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Lying.

What is the trait you most deplore in others? Cruelty.

What has been your most embarrassing moment? I'm not easily embarrassed. Messing up live on national radio is embarrassing, but it always feels much worse than it sounds. And I was once thrown out of the Café de Paris for behaving unspeakably badly - but I'd rather not go into detail.

What vehicles do you own? A cat, big and strong enough to pull a large carriage.

What are your greatest extravagances? Lattes. Cabs. Bottles of wine.

What objects do you always carry with you? My keys. My gym ID card.

Where would you like to live? England. I liked living in Austria and Switzerland too. And I quite like the idea of New York or Santa Monica or San Fransisco or New England or Paris or Provence or Tuscany or Slovenia or Australia or Denmark or a Greek Island or Suffolk or Rye or Northumberland.

What makes you depressed? Fussy people. Messy people. Rude people. Lack of sleep.

What do you most dislike about your appearance? I like my appearance really. But I'd prefer to be a bit more 'defined' again after a lapse, which is why I'm going to the gym again most days.

What is your most unappealing habit? Dwarf tossing.

What are your favourite smells? Creosote, tar, wood smoke, toast, chocolate, coffee, roast chicken, parsnips, lemons, Christmas cake being baked, herbs in hot countries, basil, mint, lavender, coconut, aftershave, scones, ginger, garlic, Thai food, freshly-baked bread, Domestos (makes me think of swimming).

What is your favourite word? Odd.

What is your favourite building? I like the colleges in Cambridge a lot and Durham Cathedral and Venice.

What is your favourite journey? Through the Fens on a winter's day. Through Soho. To bed.

What are your favourite books? Too many. But books which have really grabbed me over the years include: Narziss Und Goldmund; The Catcher in the Rye; The Magus; Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway; Making The Cat Laugh; Busy Busy World; The Secret History; Dorian Gray; Scoop.

What is your favourite fantasy? My second favourite fantasy is winning the National Lottery, which is utterly pathetic.

How did you vote in the last election? Lib Dem, for the first time ever.

How will you vote in the next election? For an MP probably.

Should the Royal family be scrapped? No. They form an amusing zoo. And they probably bring in more money than they squander. Politically, I'd rather we saw ourselves as citizens than subjects, but I think we do regardless.

Do you believe in capital punishment? No. Two wrongs don't make a right.

For what cause would you die? To protect someone (or an animal) I love. Probably.

Do you believe in monogamy? No. Well - it obviously suits some people. But it doesn't suit others. It's not a moral issue. Nor are the genders of the people involved. As long as it's consensual and between adults of the same species, I'm happy with it.

What or who are the greatest loves of your life? My pets. My parents. My friends. Me. Food. The Internet. Beauty. Music. Treacle Pudding.

Which living person do you most despise? I'm not sure I despise anyone any more. It's not good for you to despise people. Jeffrey Archer?

What do you consider the most overrated virtues? Chastity. Modesty. Ambition.

Have you ever said 'I love you' without meaning it? No.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse? 'Odd', 'weird', 'sorry', 'splendid', 'marvelous', 'jolly good', 'yes - but just a smidgin'.

What is your greatest regret? I've done some terrible things which I regret a lot. But, generally, I tend to regret not doing things rather than doing them.

When and where were you happiest? Greece and Florida in 1989???

How do you relax? Watching naff TV. Stroking and grooming the pets. Going to the gym. Swimming. Sitting in cafes. Sitting in trains and on planes. Drinking Cabernet Sauvignon. Being by myself.

What single thing would improve the quality of your life? Several million pounds.

What would your motto be? Carpe Diem.

How would you like to die? In my sleep, with no unfinished business, after a very contented old age. Or - being eaten alive by a giant hamster, live on Channel 4.

Do you believe in life after death? I don't see any reason not to believe in it any more than I see any reason to believe in it. I often feel, in a nice way, that relatives or friends who've died are looking after me.

What are the most important lessons life has taught you?

(1) Live life for yourself and not in order to fulfil others' expectations.

(2) It's more important to be happy and kind than clever and impressive.

(3) Live for today. Don't beat yourself up about yesterday or tomorrow.

(4) Feel the fear and do it anyway. Fearing it is nearly always worse than doing it.

(5) Control is very important. But so is having a laugh.

(6) Don't make your own nightmares.

(7) Crises are always temporary.

(8) There's no point in being embarrassed

(9) It's very important to like yourself.

What are you reading at the moment? 'Emotionally Weird' by Kate Atkinson, 'The Book of Tells' by Peter Collett, 'Remotely Controlled' by my friend Aric. And I'm going to read John Peel's autobiography 'Margrave of the Marshes' soon.

What are you listening to at the moment? At this present second, I'm listening to Babyshambles. But I was listening to Abba a minute ago.

On what occasions do you lie? I tell the odd white lie to protect people's feelings.

Cat or Dog? Cat, of course. But I like dogs too and I'm considering getting one.

How would you like to be remembered? As a nice person, artiste and millionnaire.

Who would play you in a movie of your life? Margaret Rutherford of course.

Has BBC newsreader Louisa Preston visited Peacockshock? I wonder. Anyway - for whatever reason - she's now a normal colour again and I no longer have to adjust my set when she comes on.

Boll has decided to comment on the alleged return of Louis Walsh to the X-Factor by falling asleep.

Bollinger Predicting The Demise Of Louis

Bollinger is a big X-Factor fan and has taken to predicting the fate of contestants and judges by turning her back on them.

Louis Walsh Quits X-Factor

Here's a showbiz conversation I just had with my friend S -

Me: I see it's BBC Presenters In Need today.
S: Yes. I produced that once for Radio X when that madwoman X was off.
Me: Which madwoman? They were all mad.
S: You know. The one that X hated.
Me: But X hated everyone.
S: Yes.
Me: Oh, I remember. She was with that guy who ran off with X from Radio X.
S: Who was that?
Me: He was famous. He was called X Something.

A thrilling insight there into the glamorous world of the media.

It's International Tolerance Day today. And I'm pretty tolerant generally. But I refuse to tolerate one thing - White Teenage Boys With Afro Hairdos. Silly. Wrong. Must be stopped.

I've incurred the wrath of the bee-keeping community.

This is because of my 'Joy of Laziness' entry, in which I

(1) anthropomorphised bees, suggesting they could be 'busy' or 'lazy', which (if you think about it) they can't

(2) said queen bees could live till they were 20 (not true - this was a slight exaggeration - they normally only live a year)

and

(3) referred to all bees as 'bumble bees'.

I apologise.

I just got the James Blunt CD and it's extremely good. I thought I'd tell you this so you'd know I like 'normal' music too. As the Sunday Times said, it's "packed with solid hooks and love songs with a twist, all delivered in the voice of a fallen angel." He does have a slightly odd accent though. At one point, he repeatedly sings "I'm so Harlow baby. I'm so Harlow."

Harlow

I'm very into Breakcore at the moment and I'm a big fan of Venetian Snares. If you're not familiar with this type of music, have a listen to this Zane Lowe feature.

Aaron Funk and Cat (aka Venetian Snares)

A Were-Rabbit

In Portland Dorset, there's a local superstition which means you don't say the word 'rabbit'. Instead, you say 'furry thing'. So the makers of the new film The Curse Of the Were-Rabbit have had to remove the R-word from their posters, replacing it with the phrase: something bunny is going on.

full story

I was just looking at the Channel 4 schedule for tonight. How Clean Is Your House?, followed by It's Me Or The Dog, followed by Supernanny. Channel 4, probably the UK's most liberal terrestrial channel, is showing three consecutive programmes about tidiness, control and authority. I'm the first to agree with Einstein that "unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of truth". But could tonight's C4 schedule indicate some sort of public craving for a recognisable hierarchy and a few more rules? I wonder.

After years of anxiety dreams, I've now started having a new category: anxiety-related Schadenfreude dreams, in which celebrities suffer misfortune and I feel happy. Last night, I dreamt that Brad Pitt was fat. It made me feel fantastic.

Brad Pitt

Thank you to John Curnow for observing that one normally 'pedals' rather than 'peddles' exercise bikes. Speling never was my strong point.

Yet another celebrity turns orange

Louisa Preston

You may, if you're a regular, have noticed that I recently did a big section on orange tv presenters - particularly Louisa Preston of BBC1 who turned even more orange than usual last week. Then I dramatically removed the feature without warning. This is because my friend Martin Popplewell (newsreader, Sky News) emailed me to say Louisa had a terrible illness which caused the extreme orangeness. This resulted in a horrific guilt attack, causing me to delete my entire orange entry and go for a walk to contemplate life. Then Martin phoned me to say he'd only been joking. The moral of the story: never trust a journalist (though you can trust Martin when he's on the television - honestly - trust me).

This poignant little scene greeted me when I went out into the garden this morning.