encounters with strange men

I was walking home from work in the rain when a car stopped and a man offered me a lift to the High Street. It was too dark to see clearly but it looked like my boss, who was over from Tooting that day. It didn't sound like him, admittedly, but I could hardly say no if it was: it would be impolitic. And why would a complete stranger offer me a lift? So I got in. It wasn't him.

Who was it? I have no idea. I comforted myself with the thought that it's only children who are forbidden to get into cars with strange men - this is one of the many freedoms granted to adults in a civilized society. And indeed, it all passed off very well. There was some general conversation about the weather, and the onset of Christmas, and then I was dropped off at the back of Marks and Spencers just like I asked.

Only later did the doubts start. I didn't look very closely at him – maybe he was naked from the waist down. Maybe he was nursing a massive erection. At the corner of my eye, I might have mistaken it for a gearstick. I'm very naïve about cars.

But there is no need to be so suspicious: I'm sure that the man was just performing an act of simple kindness. The weirdo.

It is not my first experience with strangers this year. When I went to see the revived Wicker Man at the Curzon Soho in October, a man sat down right next to me, even though the cinema was largely deserted. Then he offered me wine. After a brief hesitation I accepted. There was something about him that put me at my ease – maybe it was his use of the word 'wine'.

I spoke to him afterwards and it turned out he was someone. His name was Toby and he'd made a documentary called The Man Whose Mind Exploded, and now wanted to make a horror film set in Worcestershire. Probably I should have prolonged this encounter and got myself involved somehow, but it all seemed so unlikely. I never speak to strangers and feel at ease - maybe I was imagining the whole thing. But it turns out he has a Wikipedia entry, so must exist. Oh well. I 'liked' his documentary on Facebook, which is a pretty bold move for me. I haven't even seen it.

That's the great thing about the internet – you can stalk people without them even knowing about it. And it's so reassuring to know how many people out there are just dying to meet you – one cropped up in my junk e-mails at work the other day: 'Hullo sweet! Tell me more about your person.' Sure, 'sweet', what would you like to know? Shall we start with my bank details?

let there be light entertainment

So Joey Essex has been expelled from his jungle Eden. Is it an exaggeration to say that this is a tragedy for the civilized world? It means that his ability to transcend stupidity has not been recognised. This crushing eviction means that we may never be presented with the fruits of his philosophy - a magnum opus that would have started from the premise that (as once revealed by JE on Celebrity Juice) 'Richard and Judy created the world'.

More tragically, it also suggests that people are getting bored with TOWIE. Just as I'm about to do my version of it.

Well not just mine. It's Mat's idea to make a film, and he was pestering me for an idea. When I said I had one, he said now he'd have to save up to buy a camera.

The idea is to rediscover pre-TOWIE Brentwood, whose main claim to fame was boredom. Wasn't it voted most boring town in Britain? (No – that would have been too interesting - it was just somewhere in the top ten.) So this will be our mission – to seek out the dullest aspects of the town, and perhaps even of all Essex. Boring is the new exciting. There will be lots of shots of Poundland, which has recently opened in Brentwood High Street. Our 'characters' (if any) can marvel endlessly at the fact that everything in this shop is a pound. They can continually pester the staff: 'How much is this? A pound? Really? And this?'

If Poundland is the antithesis of TOWIE glam, it is also in some mysterious way its logical conclusion. The Only Way Is Poundland. But we need a better acronym than TOWIP. How about There's More To Essex Than Meets The Eye, or TMTETMTE? Now this isn't the kind of acronym that makes the title easier to say, it isn't about convenience at all. Rather, it's the kind of acronym that insists that you drop everything you're doing as you attempt to pronounce it. Which is exactly the effect we want.

The best way to approach it is to split it into two equal parts: TMTE TMTE. Then lower your voice a few octaves: 'Tummm-tayyy, tummm-tayyy.' Ideally you should end up sounding like a participant in some sinister voodoo rite. See? Instant gravitas.