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My soup collection: it's been coming together steadily for about two years, the Ainsley Harroitt pretentious packet soup collection in my desk drawer bottom, an eclectic mix of soup vapours and colouring atoms that populate the space besides my breakfast crackers and one cup coffee sachets. The trouble is that I've lost control of it. It started with a few Stilton and lookalike Leeks, then some Mulligatawny and now it's grown like floppy bunny Topsy into an encyclopedic display of unknown but coded packets of mysterious powders, each one containing the basic ingredients of some exotic soup or other. As they are mixed and anonymous I have to guess or imagine the contents; Carrot and Bamboo Giraffe, Merseyside Mud Pie and Wensleydale, Chicken and Plum with Scrotum Lemon Grass, Suet and Blue Budgerigar, Italian Matto-Grosso with Chick-Pea Turpentine, Seaweed El Greco? Mmm can't wait till lunch time.

Glasgow Rangers RIP: Over in Scotland's favourite city fans have been rocked by the news that their great bigoted and ignorant institution has been quietly run into the ground by a combination of swollen headedness, ineptitude, chronic failure and Karmic consequences. Yes, Rangers FC, now ready for anything including the administrator and are up to their Broxi Burgers in debt. “It's like watching an ill relative that's not going to recover.” said a commentator. More like an ill dictator or despot hanging on the barbed wire or from a lamppost in my view. The fans will of course rally round, sing a few heartfelt and plucky folk songs and then quickly desert the sinking ship as if it was the Costa Concord on a barrel roll. Then as Rangers slink slowly into the West so will the rest of Scottish football along with them as the golden goose chokes. It really should be so easy to succeed at success but then again it's heartening and possibly humbling to know that nobody is too big to fail. I wonder if the SNP will band together and bail them out from the Tesco tax coffers? Maybe one fine day we can all relax, forget about keeping up with the Champions League, the pressures of Sky and stupid salary levels and just play decent and entertaining provincial football that we can all follow set at reasonable prices and within realistic costs.

Science comes to the rescue: Scientists and clever students with Persil white coats and Nike shoes have stumbled upon the elusive mathematical formula that even Leonardo Da Vinci failed to find. In a announcement that will be celebrated by men of a certain age all cross Scotland it's become apparent that the answer to middle aged nasal hair growth and stimulation has been found. Using only a simple Casio calculator and some ex-Post Office rubbers bands scientists have made a full genetic model the predicts and illustrates the possible outcomes and consequences of certain key genes on nasal hair development. “It's a great day for all fashionistas and sufferers,” said Doctor Kelvin Bidet. “No longer will blokes be worried about nasal hair projections, root dysfunction or impulse tweezer purchase from Boots the Chemists, they'll be able to enter in their details on a simple web site and monitor their growth prospects and follicle projections on line.” An Ap for those fiddly about to be obsolete iPhone things is also planned.