Your task: Attend 2 housewarming parties within 6 hours on opposite sides of London. You will be hindered by an unhelpful Bank branch of the Northern Line, you will meet a travel journalist who believes that there's next to no child poverty in the UK, an offensive yoga fanatic, and you will listen to an infuriating radio phone in. During this entire episode your cuffs will remain unsecured.

I own 2 shirts which require cufflinks to secure the, er, cuffs. I'm not a particular fan of this kind of shirt, but you've got to value the fit, the colour and the styling over the method used to keep your wrists warm, haven't you. The annoying thing is, I only own 1 pair of cufflinks – 2 would just seem hideously excessive – and they tend to get forgotten about, as I did on Saturday, when I rolled up my sleeves to do the washing up and then just left them there for the rest of the day. I did remove my “I'm Cooking For Mr Greedy” apron, though. You can't go to parties with Mr Men characters adorning your chest. Although Mr Rush might look quite good. From memory, Mr Rush is the only Mr Man who has a celebrity namesake. There is no actor called Mr Forgetful – work would dry up quickly – and there are no pop singers called Mr Messy, Mr Grumpy or Mr Chatterbox, although many show very similar characteristics.

We arrived early at the first party in Forest Hill. Very early. Far too early.

In a taxi en route to the second party, a dispicable woman called Mary Lambert was publicising her book “The Feng Shui Guide To Harmonious Living” with an appearance on a radio phone in show. The different prononciations of the words “Feng Shui” were whizzing past so rapidly it was difficult to keep track. “Fng Shooooey”, said the presenter. “Fong Shoo”, said puzzled businessman Bernard, from Worthing, who had had his office re-designed by an Feng Shui-mad employee, and henceforth experienced a three-fold increase in profits. “I don't get it,” said Bernard. Mary was keen to emphasise how correct alignment of photocopiers is an essential part of any business plan, but also recommended various crystals to consolidate his position in the marketplace. “Get a piece of quartz, and everything should be OK,” she opined, wisely. “But remember, you don't choose the crystal, Bernard; the crystal chooses you.” Really. Bernard might be in for a long wait.

Watching Stephen Fry's Room 101 appearance repeated last night has galvanised me into slagging this kind of woolly thinking quite openly, knowing that Britain's best loved comedic actor is on my side. Sarah rang in from Manchester, concerned about a telegraph pole and lamp-post that are positioned either side of her home. “I see,” jumped in the presenter eagerly, “and has anything bad happened??” “Er, no,” replied Sarah. “But I just get the feeling that they're not meant to be there.” My advice to Sarah would be to have a glass of water, take a deep breath or two, and start enjoying life a little. But Mary Lambert had different ideas. “I recommend that you hang a lead-faceted spherical hanging crystal outside your home. This will stop the invisible lines of cutting-Ch'I emanating from the telegraph pole and the lamp-post.” Other people wanted their love life revolutionised by the power of positive energy. Sadly, if your bedroom is at the front of your home, and there are roads nearby, your life will remain loveless and barren. Remember that, next time you're chatting someone up at a party.