"Tactless, Yet Rude" (1 pt)

There's no better way to start a new year than with a dose of unpleasant -for all observers and participants- gastric flu, that's what I always say. Well, no, it isn't what I always say, obvs, but it will be a frequent mantra of mine in years to come, you mark my words. I thought I'd recovered by Tuesday, but dragging myself into work proved to be a horrific mistake by the time of my journey home. Half the rest of the department -hell, half the firm- is ill or away for some other more or less defensible reason anyway.

Since one of the deciding factors in my decision to come in today was the ability of free interweb I'm slightly peeved to discover that (a) forsooth I have forgot my password to HMRC Online Tax Returns, and have been through all the usual variations on the usual themes; and (b) I have also forgot my passcode for online banking. Not the most successful organisation in the world.

I am, as my brother informed me (while rather kindly, given it was before 9AM and he wasn't even up when I rang, driving me back from the airport the Thursday before Christmas) going to be an uncle again. That makes 9 and counting. My siblings are trying to bankrupt me. It's a plot I tell you.

You'll find life jackets under your seats. In the event of a water landing, they will keep you afloat, unless you are seized by a giant squid, and dragged screaming beneath the waves.