Well there you are

Other things I miss about home (apart from Heat magazine):

Bacon - can't get it anywhere, not the real thing
Sausages - the kind you fry in a pan and not made of horse
Weetabix - Emma's breakfast, although today I gave her scrambled eggs
Chips - proper, fat chip-shop-chips: not limp, salty rubbish frites
Fish and chips, now I think about it
I've already talked about builder's tea, so I won't bang that drum again (at least give it a couple of days)
Newspapers that both / either a) contain fish and chips b) contain news
Hello!, OK, Closer all the appalling goss mags there are because I am a sick, sick addict to this trash so help me God. I was hoping my new life might have cured me but the minute I got to Gatwick I was all over the glossies like necrotising fascitis (that's a gag for all my PMU colleagues out there.)

I was upset to hear about both Chris and Billie and Bryan and Kerry. They all seemed very happy. And it has put me off Bryan's single, which I quite liked.
Nor can Boris Johnson keep it in his trousers, apparently. What is the world coming to?