Yes, yes, I know it's Cerberus. I was thinking cyber-ly.

People, I must tell you about tonight. The film was 'The Italian Job', which had to do battle with 'Britain's Got Talent'. The latter, for reasons that are largely beyond me, proved the more popular. Anyway, as I'm sure at least some of you will know, or at least, those of you who weren't living the high life in the name of camping with Bradders down in the far fields, a spectacularly capable and semi-clad group of people who threw one another around in the air, were the winners. That, in itself, you might think, is the end of the saga. Not in Newton.

When the residents went upstairs, they all dutifully cleaned their teeth, and for some reason someone decided to throw what I am relaibly informed is called, simply, 'a pig' onto the bathroom ceiling. I discovered a group of boys, awaiting its fall from grace. Remembering the act, I quickly lifted one of the smaller members of the throng to ceiling height and 'the pig', to rapturous applause, was collected. Result.

It all happens here, you know. And no, I won't tell you which Newtonian enquired of me whether I, too, liked the 'fake sun-tan' of those in the act.