I was standing in the checkout queue this evening, waiting patiently behind an elderly lady who was carefully and slowly packing her purchases into a collection of recycled and jute bags. On the one hand, I wanted to award her a big bouquet for her and her environmentally-considerate shopping trip. On the other hand, I wanted to jab her with a cattle prod. She was very slow and declined all requests to help pack away from the cashier, who evidently feared a riot from the long queue that was forming.

"No thank you, dear. I have a system" she said, politely but firmly.

Alas, her system also involved losing her purse, unpacking the vegetable bag again, repacking it, peering into the frozen food bag and eventually finding her purse in her coat pocket.

"Well fancy that - it was there after all. NO dear! I'll repack that bag".

After a few minutes, my brain sunk into its usual supermarket stupeur. I allowed myself to be distracted from her tweetings and the mutterings of the teenagers behind by reading the cover of OK! magazine and its triumphant EXCLUSIVE! coverage of the Wayne Rooney wedding.

For there was Colleen, looking as beautiful as a bride should be, with that extra special glow that only £5million can give you. And standing beside her was a grinning little boy. It took several blinks to realise that this was her new husband, not her page boy.

They seem a nice couple and I wish them well. And I really would like to thank them for taking time out on the most important and romantic day of their lives to keep me entertained at the checkout.