A wild time in Driffield

Having reported said incident to one of How Ridiculous's dearest friends, she responded in her typically God's own county fashion: 'Bloody antipodians!'

She then proceeded to tell How Ridiculous about the weekend she was spending with her Brother and his family.

'Still in Driff. Am knackered. Cock and hens very amusing - dirty b******s. Bunty n ben! Una n ray more like!'

As How Ridiculous replied: 'Don't talk to me about frisky cocks, I've been swimming this afternoon.'

Pope camps it up

However, the highlight of the weekend was the coverage of The Pope's visit to Auschwitz.

How Ridiculous found it all very moving and HR's affection for, and admiration of, The Holy Father reached new heights.

Earlier in the day, How Ridiculous had attended Mass and is sad to report that there was an incident between HR and a loud, very loud, middle-aged, over-weight, male Kiwi.

He sang (loudly) when he should not have done. He spoke (loudly) incorrectly when he had to speak. It was all very trying.

Then the moment for the sign of peace arrived. How Ridiculous had another sign in mind for him but did not give it. Turning to his neighbour, he said: 'Peace be with you. Where are you from?' 'Peace be with you. Nigeria.' 'I'm from New Zealand.'

As the original Elle Macpherson started being distributed, the congregation were treated to: 'I did not know there could be such awfully bad liturgy. And people wonder why the Church in England is dying.'

By this stage, How Ridiculous's patience was thinner than HR's hairline and it finally snapped when we heard 'Popes down the centuries...banned.'

How Ridiculous turned to the gentleman and said: 'Will you be quiet.' As HR said to Mummy when recounting this story to her and she asked what the man's response was: 'It was an instruction, not a question. It did not need a response.'

A funny old weekend

It has, to misquote Arkwright, been a funny old weekend.

How Ridiculous was graced by a visitation from Mother, Brother and a cousin on Saturday.

Lunch was partaken at a Chinese restaurant close to Leicester Square. How Ridiculous has a tremendous affection for it - its walls are covered with portraits of Communist leaders and there amongst them is a portrait of the late Princess of Wales.

Sadly, How Ridiculous's party were not tabled under Diana but rather under Karl Marx which made HR think of Kitty's remark about the pants dropping off but the broccoli being faultless; but we digress.

After lunch, we proceeded to take a trip through Soho. Imagine how disconcerted How Ridiculous was to turn round and find Mother had tripped and was flat out in a gutter in Old Compton Street, a feat not achieved by How Ridiculous - yet.

Back - for good?

Well, after several months, and endless non-demands for more posts from reader/s, How Ridiculous is back - just like dear old Take That.

Whether How Ridiculous is Back for Good remains to be seen - as, indeed, it remains to be seen, if that dearest of boy bands is.