And scoop one up when you see it because, going by the empty shelves, either they’re selling out like hot cakes or are a very limited edition.  

But if you thought it was just full of bankers, IT ubergeeks and heirs of old money you’d be wrong. This list is proof that, with a bit of effort, practically anyone can make their millions (although admittedly it definitely helps if your rellies left you a small fortune to start with).

Take a look at number 1140 – Joaquin Guzman Loera. He’s made his meagre one billion dollars by drug-smuggling (allegedly) – although from a quick shufty at the comments on his page it would appear that he’s actually Mexico’s equivalent to Robin Hood.

At 459 is Philippe Foriel-Destezet, who made 2.5 billion dollars by starting a temp agency, matching up people who want to work with people who need workers. Now surely anyone could that, assuming they could be bothered.

One of the lucky heirs, William Wrigley, comes in at 565. He inherited a chewing gum empire from his granddaddy and is now worth 2.1 billion. Someone really should make him go around scraping the damn stuff off the pavement.

My personal favourite is at number 223 – Kjeld Kirk Kristiansen. He might have inherited his wealth but thanks to his genius ancestors this man has made 4.7 billion dollars out of Lego. I thought I used to be pretty creative with the stuff but 4.7 billion – that’s impressive!

Forbes 2011 billionaires list

For some time now, design magazines have been trying to foist wallpaper on us all. Not just bland, background paper that your granny might have had to hide dodgy plaster-work either but lary, blah-type wallpaper that would have you reaching for your sunny-g’s if you saw it actually pasted up on the walls.

I can’t help but wonder if anyone is buying this stuff. It might look fine in a weeny little magazine photo where there’s nothing else in the scene except a couple of artificially arranged bits of pointlessness but why would anyone want a giant patterned wall to compete with all the other clutter in their house?

Today I ate them and soon wished I hadn’t. They were grim and tasted more like a burnt pan after the fry-up had been removed from it. Probably.

On one hand you could say that these charity donating crisps are a good thing, with 5p from each bag going to Comic Relief, but my cynical hand sticks two fingers up to that and reckons it’s more likely that Walkers are just doing this as an excuse for some blatant self-promotion - they’ll most likely make more from this latest bit of marketing than they’ll actually be donating.

So, to avoid any kind of crisp-related moral dilemma this charity marketing may be giving you, I recommend that you simply stick to your favourite flavour non-Walkers crisps (or a compromise flavour, now that Tomato Ketchup and Savoury Vinegar seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth) and stick a few quid in the Comic Relief collection bucket when it comes around.

Besides, if the Stephen Fry-up flavour is anything to go by, you can probably expect the other flavours to taste like something along the lines of the remnants of yesterday’s cat-food bowl, a serial marathon-runner’s trainers and the flakey variety of goldfish food.

If I’d had a box as great as this to keep my bricks in, I might still have them. Maybe it’s time to start my 2011 Christmas wish-list. Mu-uum!

Sadly, I don’t think it will fit on my bike. Maybe I’ll have to design something that will. Handlebar antlers that glow in the dark perhaps?

When I was told this I thought I was having my teets pulled but apparently not, according to the BBC website.

I can’t wait to see how this story develops. Will there be a mass demonstration from crowds of people downing copious quantities of peas and ice cream and trumping pro-parping slogans in unison? I really hope so.

Yes, it really exists. I discovered the London College of Excellence on a bus map out at White City today and it gave me my first belly laugh of the year.

It made me wonder what went on there – and what other daft colleges there are: the College of Niceness maybe, or the College of Mediocrity (credited to my friend Anna) – so of course I had to get online and check it out to see what’s so excellent about it.

Having now done so, I wish I hadn’t bothered. Their website is about as dull and uninformative as it’s possible for a college website to be. Click on the page titled ‘Courses’ and you get no information whatsoever about courses. Definitely not excellent. Perhaps it should be renamed the College of Can’t-be-arsed. Much more appropriate for this time of year.

In the past couple of years, nature has given us snow in January as some sort of compensation but this winter December got all the goodies. Now this endless January gloom is really getting to me and I can’t help wishing that nature would chuck some more of the white stuff down to brighten the place up a bit.

I even bought a bunch of daffodils to try to inject some colour into my world but they’re refusing to open properly – their trumpets are out but the petals are clutching tightly around them like they’re trying to keep warm and they’re not even using up any water from the vase. I guess they’re suffering from the January’s too and would rather be back in the bulb.

Still, there’s only six days until February now – although in January time, it’ll probably feel more like six weeks.

Last week I saw a man in flip-flops and yesterday, when there was almost a river (well, a small stream maybe) running down Regent’s Street, I saw numerous girls wearing flimsy little ballet pumps.

It got me thinking about all the things I hate most about feet and the ridiculous things people put on them.

The worst crime is probably the most common – people who insist on wearing shoes at least one size too small.

Why would anyone do that to their feet? It’s just mean and is also thoroughly unpleasant for those of us who might unwittingly catch sight of their foot-pudge squelching out over the top.

This lack of size-sense shows up most in summer when all the badly-fitting sandals come out.

If you’re one of these people – please stop it!

I don’t want to see your toes hanging over the edge of your sandals so they touch the pavement. I don’t want to see your toes if you are not wearing sandals. And if you have manky toes, please keep them covered and don’t inflict them on the rest of us.

Oh, and when it snows – don’t slither around in stilettos like a numpty. Get yourself some appropriate footwear.