Wicked rumours

Malicious rumours are being spread that my blog posts are created in Chinese sweatshops by exhausted children working 23-hour days and paid the equivalent of 5p a week.

This is simply untrue, as a quick phone call to our head office would easily confirm.

Our 147-strong staff work in luxurious conditions
in our purpose-built production centre in Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire, and all receive exceptionally generous salaries compared to other less reputable blogging enterprises. World-class chefs, beauticians and hairdressers are on hand day and night to tend to their every whim, and chauffeur-driven limousines make light work of any travel needs.

But don't take my word for it. Here's what 25-year-old concept-facilitator Mandy Mouthwash has to say: "I just love working at nickhereandnow so much. It has totally changed my life. For the first time my creative talents are being recognised and appreciated. I feel I'm making a real contribution to the well-being of society. Not only that, but the guys here are drop-dead gorgeous."

The scurrilous rumours of Chinese child-labour are based on an alleged interview with 7-year-old Wah Shing in one of the tabloid newspapers.

He claims to have been trapped into blog-slavery several years ago and despite repeated attempts to escape his inhuman conditions is still forced to write continuously with no meal or toilet breaks and even when his fingers and eyeballs are bleeding from overuse. Frequently collapsing from malnutrition and exhaustion, he is mercilessly revived with buckets of ice-cold water until he resumes work.

Unstinting inquiries by my staff have failed to locate the elusive Wah Shing, who is clearly a monstrous journalistic invention with as much substance as Tinkerbelle.

I have put the whole distasteful business in the capable hands of my lawyers, Sue Grabbit and Runne.

Pic: The nickhereandnow head office at Chipping Norton

Only teasing

When does teasing become bullying? And are some people more upset by it than others?

I haven't been teased much in my life, and when I have it's been more affectionate than malicious. At school I was called "beanpole" because I was so thin, but I just found it amusing. My granny used to call me "Little Knickers" but that was simply playful as well.

One workmate used to tease me about the number of bananas I ate (actually a grand total of two a day), but then he used to tease everyone mercilessly so I never took it personally, except to get very irritated by the repetitiveness.

One boss I had used to refer to every male employee as "Fred", regardless of their real name. That was definitely insulting, as he knew very well, but he wouldn't stop doing it.

If teasing is based on affection, that's fine, it doesn't bother me. But if it's based on ill-will and the wish to provoke and undermine, then it becomes something nasty that needs to be stopped before a person's self-confidence crumbles.

And it's true that some people are more sensitive to teasing than others. Someone with a thick skin and an enormous ego hardly notices they're being teased, it's simply water off a duck's back. They may even welcome it as a way of getting attention.

But someone who already has low self-esteem can quickly be unnerved by persistent teasing that only adds to the negative self-image they're carrying around.

Men still think it's fine to tease women about their figures, or their sexiness, or their clothes (and most women are insecure about all three), but complaints by women generally fall on deaf ears. If women teased men in the same relentless fashion, they would get it in the neck.

Teasing as a sign of fondness is harmless fun. Teasing as a sign of malice can quickly turn into emotional torture.

Pic: Rean Carter of Sunderland, who was being teased at school for his "girlie" hair. He has now had it cut short.

The road to bliss

I'm just back from the remote Cairngorms retreat of the Sacred Order of Divine Bliss. As you know, I go there periodically for spiritual refreshment and to cleanse my mind of worldly impurities.

The Head of the Sacred Order is the illustrious Swami Korianda Arjibarji Kolostomi Roshi, whose seven million devotees regard him as the earthly incarnation of Zu, the supreme cosmic life-force.

He is known for the astonishingly gruelling regime he imposes, designed to break through the accumulations of bad karma that prevent everlasting bliss.

The typical day involves a punishing schedule of chastisement, self-mortification, torture, rock-breaking and ritual humiliations. Light meals of organic gruel and seaweed fritters are included, along with a bed of nails for overnight stays.

Swami Korianda himself, having long ago reached a permanent state of pure, transcendent ecstasy, has no further need of such rigorous discipline and instead spends his days with a bevy of nubile lovelies, quaffing champagne and oysters and cruising the countryside in one of his luxurious fleet of customised Rolls-Royces.

He makes light of the 17 people who have died from the traumatic after-effects of his strenuous curriculum. They are the lucky ones, he says, who have reached the state of nirvana unexpectedly, avoiding years of agonising spiritual struggle.

I have to confess I spent the third night not on a bed of nails but in a five star hotel in Inverness with another devotee, the very appealing Felicity Hopgrass. This also led to an unexpected state of nirvana, which unfortunately came to an end when Felicity had to return home urgently after her pet alsatian ate the neighbour's budgie.

I'm now back home myself, fully revitalised and with renewed admiration for the celebrated Swami whose surly critics are simply jealous of his infinite oriental wisdom.

# A week at the retreat costs £973. Bring your own pliers and first aid kit.

Pic: the venerable Swami Korianda