I've enjoyed the first half of Toby Young's latest book, The Sound of No Hands Clapping, which I picked up for £2 in Fopp. I had just got to the bit where his pregnant wife injured herself skiing. Unfortunately I left it in the bidet in our bathroom and a curious child, or one who disapproves of witless berks who look like William Hague, soaked it in water. We've tried to dry it on the Aga, but it has just turned it to mush. Oh dear. I don't know if I want to read it enough to buy it again. Even for £2.