We had some workmen in over the weekend - my wife saw to them for most of the time, to be honest, as I couldn't recall any building work we needed doing. They did seem to be unusually pleased with themselves, despite having to work weekends. My wife is in a better mood than I've seen her for some time, too.

This Malone woman seemed a nice sort so I wrote to her thusly:

Dear Malone,

I read with great interest your article in the Sunday Mirror regarding your stay in the Big Brothel house. I don't normally stoop to tabloid television, or indeed tabloid newspapers, although my nephew subscribes to a sporting newspaper that comes out on a Sunday (They seem to focus exclusively on female sport. Naked female sport, apparently).

I feel your pain in having to live in an enclosed space for ten days with no entertainment or decent food. It must have been awful. And I imagine the hundreds of thousands of people around the country in bedsits for whom, thanks to unemployment/mental health problems/etc. face the rest of their lives doing the same, shared your sense of suffering. I certainly cannot look at your photo now without thinking about something unpleasant.

In fact, the description of your plight ("endless days", "tears of frustration" "exhaustion & terror") brought to mind the detainees of Guantanemo Bay. Like you, they were whisked away at short notice, had all their possessions confiscated and were dumped into cramped, confined quarters with other people. Okay, they've been there for years apparently (your newspaper doesn't seem too bothered about the situation - although you do cover far more fun stories like the ghosts of serial killers haunting prison cells) and you knew you'd be there for at most a month. Although blocking a month out of your diary might have been optimism bordering on arrogance. And those prisoners have, by and large, done nothing wrong whereas you may have made some questionable decisions when choosing an agent. And you chaps weren't sadistically beaten every day. Maybe they're saving that for next year? Fingers crossed.

But other than that, it was startlingly similar.

It must have been frustrating when that scruffy Cliff Richard-type knocked over your bean cans, causing you to lose track of days. It's a shame I wasn't in the house, as I am able to count further than three, so the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. It's nice to hear you got on with Shilpa Shetty because to the outside observer it might have appeared that you were a cowardly sycophant content to ride along with the status quo rather than question the other housemate's disgustingly racist attitude toward her. But she gave you some shoes, so that can't be true, obviously. Some of my best friends are Indian too, you know. Well, I say friends. Neighbours, really. Well, they were until my mother moved in. Her strident rants about the Raj became too much for them in the end.

Good to see you've cleared up your differences with Jade, too. I suppose once you get to know a person, rather than making sweeping assumptions, personal attacks and a nice wedge of cash whilst hiding behind the security of a by-line, you realise they're not such a bad egg after all. Even a common, bigoted, ignorant, dead-eyed creation like Jade.

So overall I'd like to say well done to you and the other housemates. You and they have certainly opened a lot of people's eyes to a lot of issues in society - the negligible worth of fame, the hypocrisy of the media, underlying racism and how bloody awful today's pop stars are.

Yours etc.

(With enormous thanks to the following blog for info - it's a very, very funny blog and worth a visit:

http://blog.myspace.com/wivenhoefunnyfarm)