My mother allowed me to use the C Word!

This is what 13 year old actress Chloe Moretz said in reference to her role in the film Kick Ass.

Even now as a mother myself, if I were to say the C Word in front of my mum, she'd kick the caps off my knees.

In fact, just the thought of swearing in front of my mum fills me with dread and if she ever gave me permission to swear in front of her, I'd know it was a set up. She'd be setting me so that she could physically remind me in no uncertain terms that even if she were to lose her mind and become senile enough to beg me to swear at her, it would be the last words I ever say in life.

Ricky Martin finally free to Live la Vida Loca

Well let me get right to the point. Ricky Martin has finally and officially come out of the Español closet and told the world that he's gay.

Well I could have told you all that considering I received a bit of insider information a little while back. You see, ninety-nine percent of the time, when a handsome, young, rich, "single" man adopts kids, it's because he's gay and I didn't come up with this notion all by myself. My gay friend Paul told me years ago that Ricky and his little twins don't fool anyone. I said to Paul 'oh shut up, you're just stereo-typing'!

Well good luck to Ricky. Big scary secrets are quite suffocating, so the truth will set him free.

Ricky Martin - Live!




Click here to see the Living La Vida Loca video.

What's the secret for looking young?

Well don't look at me! You're going to have to ask 54 year old Iman.

I mean look at her. It's enough to make you want to vomit!

What on earth is her secret? What's she drinking? What's she eating? Does she do Yoga and Pilates? Is she on that horrible cabbage & grapefruit diet?

And damn... who's her stylist? Look at her shiny hair! How many vitamins does she get through every day? I mean please!! Somebody tell me.

If this is what 54 looks like, then I've got a hell of a lot of work to do starting from today. That doughnut and hot chocolate sitting on my desk now looks like a dose of poison.

Right now, I need to put my head between my knees and breathe in a paper bag because I'm beginning to hyperventilate.

I drink loads of water. I look after my skin. I exercise regularly. I sleep loads, some might say a bit too much! I'm happy... most days. But I don't look like that.

What am I supposed to do? I guess if I were able to ask my dearly departed Nanny Augustine, what would she say? I think I know what she would say. She would probably say "be happy with what you have and who you are and don't go thinking that everything you want and everything you see is for you".

What-ever Nan, WHAT-EVER!!!

Fake Boobaloo's or au Naturale?

Ladies, have you ever considered a boob job? I haven't but I have three friends who have and they all said it was money well spent and I don't doubt them for minute.

I like the idea that I have a choice, so I don't knock women for choosing to inflate their breasts. It's simply different strokes for different folks. I love shoes, verging on madness. Some people like classic cars. Some spend their money on expensive or bizarre hobbies and some women like GIGANTIC cha-cha's!

Also, it's quite obvious that women think that men like the idea of great big enormous, perfectly round, pert bosoms. So a lot of women inflate their breasts to increase their confidence and pulling power. But I know a secret. The secret is most men are more concerned about themselves. They want to know how you're gonna make them feel, not what you feel like.

We're lucky that we live in a society where we have options. If any one of us ever needed reconstructive surgery for medical reasons, the option's there. I also like the idea that if I ever 'God forbid' needed to resort to drastic measures and my bosoms were to find themselves in such an embarrassing position, i.e. way down south or shrivelled like prunes I could do something to make my chest area look like it did when I was 18.

Between you and me, I have to remember who I am and what I've taught my children. If I've been telling them all these years that personality far outweighs looks and to be happy with what they have and drumming it into them that they ought to spend their money wisely, I'd feel like a complete hypocrite if I came home one day with three thousand pounds worth of silicone stuck to my chest.

Knowing what I know about myself, which is I can be very indecisive, I'd hate to end up with such permanence. I like the freedom of inflating my chest with a fabulous bra when the puppies need to be on show. The days when they're not needed, I simply put them away.

One more thing... I've been told on good authority that most men couldn't care less whether our boobaloo's are big or small; as long as they're available at playtime!

An August Moment

A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes.



Do not wait; the time will never be "just right". Start where you stand and work with whatever tools you have right here and right now; better tools will be found as you go along.

Dinner in the Dark

I'm having my 'first' tonight.

I've been invited out for dinner to a place called Dans le Noir, although the venue may change depending on my sister's knack of being able to book any table in London at short notice! But my sister has decided that she'd like to experience something that was recommended to her which is dining in complete darkness. How exciting!

The six of us; three girls, three boys, are going to meet in the bar for a quick drink to steady our nerves and then we'll be seated in the dark dining area.

The idea is for diners to experience taste, touch and smell with their other senses. Some of the staff are visually challanged so they'll be instrumental in getting us seated and comfortable. I can't wait. I love trying something new.

I look forward to the idea of not knowing who's next to me. I also look forward to not knowing what food I'm about to be served. I can leave all silly self-conscience at the door. I can spill my drink (like I always do) without shame, drop food on my clothes - which I do at every meal anyway. I don't care if my lipstick is smudged or my hair's sticking up or my stomach's bulging out of my dress.

I can hardly wait until tonight. I feel like taking a sleeping pill so that the waiting and anticipation doesn't kill me because my stomach's going to be churning with enough butterflies to make me sick by the time 7.30pm comes around.

I just hope that no one decides to play footsies with me.

An ex is an ex for a reason!

He may as well have said "can I please put my nasty muddy footprints on your nice clean life"?

Well I say no, hell no. Ex boyfriends are not welcome up in this life. They're meant to be firmly locked up in the closet of the distant past. What on earth possessed this man to come back and breathe his repugnant fumes on me. What a frigging cheek!

He was the first and the last man I dated who took me to JESUS, LORD TAKE ME NOW land. Never again. They say never say never? Well never, never, never!!!

The man came to my house, pleading, shouting and crying in the middle of the night, attempting to wake up my street, smelling of cheap aftershave and the same over-proof rum that got him ejected from my life in the first place. What a liberty.

Silly man, I ask you! When I meet my maker in Heaven, I'm going to ask "what the f***** hell were you thinking when you presented me with Mr Ex"? I guess with that kind of colourful language and bad attitude, it won't be the Lord I'll be meeting up there. It'll be his Solicitor. Anyway, back to the real conversation...

Even now, I don't know what Ex came looking for. A friend? Forgiveness? If he was looking for a bit of rub-a-dub-dub, he's looking at the wrong face in the wrong place at the wrong house on the wrong day.

I hope he's not surprised when he turns up again and he see's me holding a can of petrol and a dripping candle... and not one of my pretty vanilla and lavender candles. It'll be one of the robust candles I keep in the basement in case of the end of the world.

I only pray I don't go up in a ball of flames with him like the man on the news who burnt down his estranged wife's house and ended up cooking himself like a roast chicken.

Bl**dy Exes. Can't live with them, can't kill them!

Curl Up and Dye!

I love getting my hair restyled. It makes me feel like a new woman. I'm always very happy when I get a complete over-haul because my hairdresser is like a real life Edward Scissor hands. I've never asked her for something she couldn't do and she's always happy to have a customer who appreciates being styled to within an inch of their life! It makes her job worthwhile.

My only only complaint is this. My hairdresser is the most International person I know! She goes abroad for fashion shows, hair conventions, style awards and plain old holidays and it's getting on my last nerves because she's always away!

Often when I go to the hairdressers, I have to get everything done at once because I know Miss International will be catching a plane like normal people catch a bus. I have to get my eye lashes done, my eyebrows threaded, my legs waxed and with the haircut, I have to get it straightened, coloured, tugged and teased until I look like a contestant in America's Next Top Model. It all hurts, but it's worth it. In fact, someone at work said I look years younger because my hair's shining like a 100 watt bulb and it's the colour of passion, so he's definitely going to be my new best friend whether he likes it or not.

Anyway, my hairdresser is off abroad for her brother's wedding tomorrow. He's marrying his boyfriend! Yes, that's what I said HIS BOYFRIEND.

The August Mayfield Diaries

To Catch a Thief

They should call me Lieutenant Columbo because I've just solved a crime. I caught the fridge raider at work and now I don't know what to do with my world of information. It could cause ugly repercussions that I'm not sure I want to deal with.

I was working late and saw someone heading towards the general direction of the kitchen area and the person was carrying a large black bin liner. I crept quietly away from my desk and walked very closely along the walls, just like what they do in films. I have no idea why someone would do this clutching at the walls thing, but it felt right. Somehow, it adds to the surprise element when you appear "DAA-DAAAA" from around the corner!

Read more ...

The Stripped Searched Pensioners

My parents got back from their year-long stay in their holiday home in Jamaica this morning. When me and my brother met them at the airport, they didn’t look as happy and refreshed as they usually do. In fact, my dad looked like he’d just been a few rounds in the ring with a heavy weight champion and my mum looked as though she’d aged 20 years.

Unfortunately for them, they were both stripped searched! Why ? Because my mother had ‘hidden’ a suspicious looking plant in her hand luggage. Turns out it was Thyme! But airport security didn’t care that my parents are old aged pensioners. They didn’t care that Thyme is a legal herb and not a bag of weed. So they were stripped and searched and tampered with by officials wearing rubber gloves; they were felt up, pressed, poked and rubbed and then let go with a caution.

I can’t imagine what my mum was thinking. She’s got a large bush of Thyme in her greenhouse in South London! Unless my parents are up to something they’ve not told me about. It’s got me thinking – if they’ve got a house in Jamaica and a house in London and can afford to live in two countries on a state pension, then maybe they’re not so innocent.

Is that big bush in the greenhouse really Thyme or is it Marijuana?

I always thought my mum’s chocolate brownies were too good to be true!

Did she just flash her ta-ta's at me?

I was cleaning my filthy windows this afternoon. I’ve been meaning to do this task for ages because I’m feeling a little bit ashamed. I don’t need net curtains because the filth on the windows would block out any view from the general public.

I guess my excuse is it’s been cold or it’s been raining. Or I’ve just painted my nails. I’ve even told myself that I’m too old to clean windows, or I’m too tired and I’ve even convinced myself that I’m too feminine and it’s not woman’s work and there are people you pay good money do this sort of manual labour. But the bottom line is it stops with me and my neighbours don’t care about my excuses... they think I’m filthy windowed tramp.

So I got out the ladder, the Marigolds and the glass cleaner and started scrubbing and rubbing at the window panes.

While doing my scrubbing and cleaning, I looked up at the house across the way and saw someone looking at me and my first thought was what’s she frigging looking at? I carried on cleaning but felt the eyes of this person still looking at me and then to my horror, she lifted her top and showed me her naked ta-ta’s.

Well God only knows how I didn’t fall off the ladder. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I got flashed. By a woman!

I collected my bucket, sponge and other window cleaning paraphernalia and ran inside the house. I then informed my teenaged sons that there was a female flasher across the way and would they like to continue cleaning from where I left off?

Well needless to say, my windows are sparlking like diamonds right now.

I wonder if she'd be kind enough to flash her ta-ta's on a weekly basis because I need my teenaged sons need to clean their bedroom, the attic and the garage!

Midlife is...

...when you get to the top of the ladder and realise that you've had the ladder against the wrong wall.

A Fire Hazard my A***!

I was told off at work by my manager. I resent being told off, even when I’m wrong so I defended my position and decided to be self righteous about it.

I arranged to meet my friend after work, but he was going to meet me one hour after my finishing time so to burn some time, I decided to put some curls in my hair by using my curling irons.

I knew that the meeting room would be empty all day so I left my curling irons and mirror on the desk.

It was just my luck that the Health & Safety inspector was doing a check around the building to make sure that we didn’t have any dangerous equipment lying around and all our electricals were in good working order.

When the Health & Safety snooper left, my supervisor came into our office and said does anyone know who these curling irons belong to? I said me and nothing else was said. Nothing until my manager said August, can I have a quick word please. So I said sure. She said would you like to come into my office. I said no! She thought I was joking. I didn’t want to go into her office so I said no, what am I lying for? She looked at me as if she was expecting something to happen but I just sat there. There was a long silence so I said to her what’s the matter? She then said you can’t leave your curling irons lying around on the desk. I said why not. She said it’s a fire hazard. A fire hazard my a***! So I said to her which part of my tongs are a fire hazard if they’re not plugged in? When you have your box of Marlboro Lights sitting on the desk, is that a fire hazard? No it’s not because it’s not lit. What a ridiculous thing to say.

Well of course she looked at me like she wanted to punch me in the face.

Oh well, I guess I’ll be seeing my P45 for some bullsh*t reason (like bad attitude). Either that or my manager’s gonna tell me some crap about downsizing and demotion.

D'Angelo... No!

The years have been unkind to soul singer D'Angelo

I'll tell you this for nothing. He ain't getting none of my 'Brown Sugar' looking like that. If D'Angelo asked me for any sugar, I'd tell him it's finished; it was stolen; I can't remember where I left it; I lent it to my sister!

D'Angelo's got himself in trouble with the law. He was cruising around in his car a few weeks ago when he spotted an undercover police woman who he mistook for a prostitute. He offered the hooker/police woman $40 for o*** sex and got himself arrested. Unfortunately, this isn't his first brush with the law... oh no! But I'm not going to hang out all his dirty laundry right now.

Maybe if he still looked like this...

...he wouldn't be paying for sex. He wouldn't even have to ask.

Breakfast, lunch & dinner in a bottle

Nadine Coyle, singer with the pop group Girls Aloud looks incredibly thin these days. Nadine said about her weight loss that she's not on a diet, it's nothing to worry about. She's always had thin legs and she comes from a slim family!

She can say what she likes; I don't think what she's defending herself with is a good enough reason to look like she's sufferintg from malnutrition.

She's so unnaturally thin right now, she looks like she'd snap like a Twiglet.

GIRLS ALOUD

An August Moment

A passage for he or she who gives love, has love, wants to share love, are receiving love and in need of some good love.

I AM THERE FOR YOU

The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence.

When our mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers. If you love someone but rarely make yourself available to him or her, that is not true love.

When your beloved is suffering, you need to recognise her suffering, anxiety and worries and just doing that, you already offer some relief.

Mindfulness relieves suffering because it's filled with understanding and compassion. When you are really there, sowing your loving-kindness and understanding, the energy of the Holy Spirit is in you.

A passage from Living Buddha, Living Christ - Thich Nhat Hanh

But I love him daddy

When I was a teenager, my dad said I could date anyone except a deadlocked Rasta. He said he doesn't want 'no weed-smoking, Ital eating, jerk pork hating Rastafari' brainwashing his "baby"and encouraging me to 'burn down Babylon'!

I thought about being defiant, but every time I wore anything that resembled red, gold & green, my dad would reach for his blood-pressure tablets and I really didn't want to be the reason for my mother becoming a widow.

That's not a compliment!

My son told me yesterday that his History Tutor said to him "Mayfield Junior, you might be more handsome than your older brother, but you're crap at History son"!

Well words can't express how overjoyed 'Mayfield Junior' was.

I've obviously failed miserably as a mother. Social Services may as well come right now, take down my particulars and put me on The Watch List because I could have done better. Who knew I would raise a vainglorious boy when I thought I trained him to be a Bachelor of Science and History. I'm beginning to question whether or not he's really mine. He looks nothing like me.

If he was really my son, he'd be apologising and praying to Jesus to get his grades up... but oh no, he's running around the living room shouting to his brother 'IN YOUR FACE' instead of getting out his books.

Broken Promise... just for laughs

A shy, apprehensive man attended an appointment with the urologist.

In the examining room, he said to the doctor, 'please don't laugh'!

'Of course I won't laugh' the doctor said. 'I'm a professional. In more than twenty years, I've never laughed at one of my patients.'

'Okay then,' the man said, and proceeded to drop his trousers, revealing the tiniest penis the doctor had ever seen.

It wasn't any bigger than, an AAA battery.

Unable to control himself, the doctor started giggling, then fell to the floor, banging the ground with the palm of his hand, holding his stomach and laughing hysterically. Five minutes later, the doctor was finally able to struggle to his feet and regain his composure.

'I'm so sorry' he said. 'I really am sir'. 'I don't know what came over me. On my honour as a doctor and a gentleman, I promise it will never happen again. Now, what seems to be the problem?'

'It's swollen' the man replied.

Back on the floor went the urologist.

Telephone - Lady Gaga

Apparently, Lady Gaga's video is "too explicit" for TV.

One newspaper says: the video is full of "graphic violence, nudity, expletives, a lesbian kiss and mass murder."

The paper went on to say "Gaga and Beyonce's antics are irresponsible. They're over-paid, over-rated, a bad example to young women and someone should sack the stylist."

OK, cool... we can watch it here then!

I refuse to trust he who wears Argos jewellery

I was watching documentary maker Louis Theroux doing a programme about plastic surgery and that level of vanity scares me. I'm happy to look at myself through a magnifying mirror but that scalpel stuff - not for me.

I doubt I could undergo plastic surgery because I have a fear of operations. I had two very painful ops in the past – cesareans; and if I ever got pregnant again, that foetus would have to stay in there until medical science finds a way of the baby coming out through my nostril the size of a pea.

If I were to consider elected surgery, it would only be for the implantation of a SatNav. Wow... I could be on to something there!

Anyway, I vowed that if my foot were to drop off, I'd quite happily fore-go an operation and take some Paracetamol, spray Dettol on the affected area and hop around with tissue stuffed in my shoe.

If I don't age very well I'll just drape some intricate lace over my mirrors to give me the illusion that I'm looking at myself with movie star lighting and special effects.

I digress... where was I? Oh yes, plastic surgery.

While watching the programme, I noticed that the doctor who prominently featured in the documentary looked like he'd done a lot of poor standard work on himself. His face was stretched to capacity and he really didn't look a pretty sight. Funnily enough it wasn't purely the operations on the programme which turned me off. Nor the state of the doctors' face. Even looking at the surgeon's work in progress made me think what were some of his patients thinking when the surgeon put in fake pectoral muscles which made the men who underwent surgery look like they had C cup breasts.

The main thing that put me off Dr Plastic von Surgeonberg was his garish jewellery. He was wearing the most common-looking gold sovereign ring and a great big chunky gold bracelet... who me? A snob? Never! It was the kind of clumsy, ugly jewellery you'd expect to see on a darts player or a football hooligan.

If a surgeon came to me, drawing felt-tip lines all over my body wearing cheap gold, I'd be up off the gurney and running down the corridor with my bottom flapping out the back of my gown without a second look!

Don't blame it on me, blame it on the Prius

A motorist killed his wife by knocking her over in the supermarket car park. Apparently, the 74 year old man said his wife was standing in front of their Prius giving him directions on how to park the car in a parking bay. Ladies... take note - DON'T DO THIS, who knows if your husband hates your guts and has murder in mind?

The man behind the wheel claimed that out of nowhere, the car accelerated and his wife then started screaming and banging on the bonnet, insisting that he stop immediately and he ended up running her over.

The car went berserk, dragging his 69 year old wife's body 130ft through Tesco's car park. William Hippsley claimed that he applied the break but the car refused to stop.

Jurors were told that the Toyota Prius was examined by a police vehicle specialist who found no faults that could have caused the accident. I personally believe the cause of the accident was Mr Hippsley's persistent foot!

Unfortunately, it's too late for Mrs Hippsley to understand that the last thing you want to do is give someone directions while standing in front of a Toyota Prius. Either you're being set up or you're volunteering your services to suicide.

The trial continues.

Get in the mood to RAVE like a 20 year old!

After about three minutes of dancing around my bedroom to this, I got a stitch and had to sit down.

I'm alright now. I realise that it wasn't the dancing! My dress was too tight.

...and the OSCAR goes to...

...me, for my shameful act of Diva'ism at the car wash this morning when they didn't vacuum my floor mats properly. If anyone at the car wash had a heavy metal Oscar-type statue today, they would have whooped me upside the head with it to shut me up! But let's leave that one at the door.

Actress, comedian and BET talk show host Mo'Nique, who I personally think is a great entertainer, won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her role in the film Precious.

Precious is an incredibly moving film with a really strong cast which includes Mariah Carey and Lenny Kravitz. Throughout the film Precious, I hated Mo'Nique's character Mary with a passion, so her Oscar win was well and truly deserved for her believable portrayal. She sure convinced me she that she was a dysfunctional monster.

Mo'Nique said

"I would like to thank the Academy for showing that it can be about the performance and not the politics"

"To my amazing husband, Sidney - thank you for showing me that sometimes you have to fore-go doing what's popular, in order to do what's right."

May I also add while I'm here that Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side is a must see!

More Oscar winners:

BEST PICTURE The Hurt Locker
BEST DIRECTOR Kathryn Bigelow - The Hurt Locker
BEST ACTOR Jeff Bridges - Crazy Heart
BEST ACTRESS Sandra Bullock - The Blind Side
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR - Christoph Waltz - Inglorious Basterds
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS - Mo'Nique - Precious
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE Up

Is there a Tailor in the house?

I love Steve Harvey. I really do. I've bought his comedy, read his book 'Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man', I listen to his radio programme and love the programme's special segment, Strawberry Letters and I've seen his show live in Florida. Unfortunately, every fan has a right to complain... right? My one complaint is this. Steve needs to update his wardrobe! He dresses like a caricature of a 1970s high-class pimp. His wife Marjorie looks young, fresh, fashionable and current and he looks like a stranger who stepped out of the crowd asking to take a picture with her.

I pray that Mr Harvey runs into bespoke tailor Ozwald Boateng one of these days. He needs to hook up with a man who knows his way around a modern-day suit and stop wearing those big ole throw-backs from Money Mike's wardrobe!

Be in the Present

Often, fewer words are more powerful than a monologue.

The August Mayfield Diaries

Question! Do You Burn in Hell if You Don't Like Hymns?

Long ago, my mum and dad thought they were doing the righteous thing for my brothers & sisters and me by sending us to church when we were younger. They were inspired by the notion that we needed Jesus in our lives (or so I thought) so they sent us to the local Sunday school. For me, that was the death of my affiliation with organised religion.

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From celebration to contemplation in 24 hours

Me and my companions were sitting in a little Camden cafe today eating chicken and chips. It was in an effort to take away the hangover from the night before. I went out with my sister Sheba and my friend Mave and we and a few too many cocktails.

Between us, we had a Slow Comfortable Screw, we drank Killer Zombies; I had a special mix Cosmopolitan – one of my all time favourites. In fact I think I had two of those. We also shared a green drink which I think was called The Incredible Hulk and I vaguely remember removing a cocktail umbrella from my hair when I got home.

While we were sitting in the cafe comparing hangovers and new Camden Market accessories, a little boy came into the cafe. He was too young to be out of school, too young to be alone in Camden and too down-trodden to be a happy little boy. He came straight over to us and said “can you buy me some food please”? I looked at my sister, my sister looked at Mave and Mave looked at me! We asked him what he wanted and he said he wanted fish & chips and a coke. We immediately started clucking like mother hens and bought him what he asked for. He said thank you and left.

For the next two hours, we discussed the little boy. We discussed poverty, social services, what’s good and bad about living in London. We talked about luck, choices and the Grace of God.

But what really got to me while I sat on the tube on the way home is that none of us asked him to tell us his story. I feel guilty because I missed an opportunity to go one step further. Fair enough... he was fed but it plays on my mind where he’ll sleep tonight, or how he lives day-to-day and where his next meal will come from.

...and what were her dying words?

It was widely reported on TV yesterday that 32 year old BBC television presenter, Kristian Digby died. It was alledged that Kristian died while indulging himself in a solo 'Sex Game'; auto-erotic asphyxiation.

I must make it clear to my family and friends that if I ever decide to indulge myself in a solo Sex Game and it ends in the loss of my life, they better tell everyone that "she died peacefully in her sleep".

I don't want the whole world to know all the nasty little things I do behind closed doors thank-you-very-much!

The Power of Laughter

I went out with my colleagues for a Mexican meal after work and we were talking about politics, family, money and love. The singles were mostly talking about what they look for in the opposite sex. When it came to me I said it was of major importance that the person I end up with makes me laugh! Not just ha-ha, that's funny dear, I mean Chris Rock/Jamie Foxx/Bernie Mac/Eddie Murphy/Richard Pryor funny! Well you would have thought I said I wanted a one legged midget. Everyone was saying that’s not a good value like good with money, kind hearted, generous, honest and mature. But to me, the ability to make me laugh is essential. It's as important as finding someone who 'gets me'. Someone who gets my sense of humour is a massive turn-on. If I make him laugh and he makes me laugh, we'd have a smile on our faces every day. The last person I had to the misfortune to date just didn’t get me. He was tuned in to some other version of me but he didn’t quite get my frequency.

Because laughter and humour is high on my list in terms of what I read, what I watch and what makes me happy, it would also be important for me to spend the rest of my life with someone who could make me laugh my socks off.

My male friend who’s very funny said when he makes a woman laugh until she’s wet around the eyes, he can almost hear her knicker elastic go 'ping' and her knickers hit the floor! I know this sounds crude but apart from my friend using his 'funny' to get people into bed, laughter is very healthy. It’s the sound of happiness and who doesn't want to be happy?

Maybe I need to start hanging around comedy clubs... that'll up my chances!