Eurostar disruption: Chaos and Kebab Man in Calais

Cross-channel holidaymakers became condensation-inflicted refugees last weekend after the suspension of Eurostar services between London and Paris, and I was unfortunate enough to be one of them.

I wasn't among the sorry few to be stranded in the Channel Tunnel for 16 hours without heating, food or water - but I did, like thousands of others, try to get back to London by boarding a ferry in Calais.

Collective bum-wiping: Manchester to Singapore

Something startling occurred to me this morning during the usual work routine. I was writing a story about Manchester Airport, or more specifically, its toilets.

They are officially the best in Britain. At least, according to a slightly ambiguous and misleading Manchester Airport press release. WCs in Terminals 1 and 2 won five-star ratings from the Loo of the Year Awards, which are recognised by the British Toilet Association. Impressive stuff.

Cafe Churchill, Whitehall

Today I paid a miserable visit to Cafe Churchill on Parliament Street in Whitehall. It is so awful that I can barely find the words to describe this aggressive little cesspit of an eatery.

The few waiters and single waitress are initally friendly, welcoming and efficient. Then they become pushy and abrupt, asking if you want everything "large" - which is actually 'regular', but it gives them a mandate to charge exorbitant prices for apparently edible produce which is so below par that I'd rather spend my money in Charing Cross McDonald's. After the pubs close on a Friday night. Even a Saturday night.

How Thierry Henry and Tiger Woods saved the world

If I was Roger Federer (and if it wasn't for the eyebrows, I could be), I'd watch out. A curse that began in ad land has beset the real world.

Thierry Henry was the first to succumb to its power. A mild-mannered, highly-respected, definitely-not-a-cheat footballer sent France through to the World Cup Finals by setting up a goal with his hand.

Celebrity chefs

I'm not really sure about the role of celebrity chefs - there didn't seem to be that many around five years ago; now they're everywhere.

Do they exist to teach us how to cook and encourage us to be more adventurous in the kitchen? Or to make us watch in awe and get on the waiting list for their restaurants, safe in the knowledge that we can never be as good as them because we can't afford livestock and don't know where to source Szechuan peppercorns. Or what sauce to put them in.

Ghost Forest

Pop down to Trafalgar Square and you'll notice a number of rainforest tree stumps resting about the place.

These represent Angela Palmer's Ghost Forest, an art project designed to raise awareness of climate change.

I've got love in my tummy

They're the best thing about weekends, as far as I'm concerned. A disgustingly unhealthy fry-up on a Saturday morning, washed down by a cup of tea. It's my reward for a week of being overworked and underpaid. I never make one, oh no, I go to a cafe and pay for one. It's the only way.

I've been worried about the prospect of abandoning the magic of Step In Cafe - which does the best breakfast in the East End - having moved away from Bow.

Captain Arthur

Today is Armistice Day, which marks the 91st anniversary of the end of hostilities on the Western Front between the Allies and Germany.

I fell silent for two minutes to think about Captain Arthur Dermot William Woollett, my great-grandfather.

Bus stops threaten your masculinity

At least, as of now they do. How is this supposed to make you feel? This ad was put up in November for crying out loud. No-one walks around in red y-fronts, especially not in freezing rain.

Decide for yourself what this man was feeling. Somewhere between borderline jealousy and hatred for metrosexuality, no doubt.

Sex line love

The above is what happens when the man on the street falls in love with the unobtainable sex line girl.