Seen in Birtwill Street, Coolum, behind the wheel of a very expensive BMW, was an executive in white shirt and tie, not picking his nose, but actually plucking the hairs from his nostrils betwixt his thumb and forefinger – not once, not twice, but many, many times.

Mr Successful kept returning to the mine and grabbing tufts of nose hair and vigorously tearing them out for all to see.

Now I’m okay with the occasional pick while waiting at the stop lights, but to pull out your nose hair will only bring tears to your eyes and make driving in a straight line almost impossible.

Keep reading for more senseless stories

I received some constructive criticism from Tom from Woombye regarding my column.

“Dear Jamie,” writes Tom, “I have been reading your column since moving to the Sunshine Coast from Ipswich but I just don’t get it. There doesn’t seem to be any point to it.

“I can’t quite see where it’s going, to be honest I think it lacks direction.”

Well Tom, first of all thank you for your letter and criticism, but the fact is my column has been pointless and directionless for the last two years and in fact, that’s exactly what I’m trying to achieve.

I’m glad that you are on to it and keep reading for more senseless stories from the Dunnster.

Poppy’s diary

I came across my eight-year-old daughter Poppy’s diary the other day and couldn’t help myself.

I know what you are thinking – every other father in the world would have respected her privacy and had just enough decency and integrity left not to open it and read it.

But I am glad I did. Under the heading “All About My Dad” came this little gem from my little precocious princess.

“My Dad is so annoying, he spends the whole time in front of the TV and playing Playstation, he never listens to me, but I don’t care because what matters is that he’s my Dad.”

I was initially not only taken aback, but a little bit offended, but when I got to the part where she said “what matters is he is my Dad”, I just went oh, isn’t that lovely.

My first love

One of the first loves of my life was a girl named Linda who was a petite and pretty blonde.

We “went steady” at Salisbury High School and used to eat our lunch together at noon every day on the bench down by the school oval, but years come and go and life goes on, and in a cruel twist of fate I got big and bald and became a puppet and didn’t see Linda for a long, long time until that fateful day some 20 years later at Carindale Shopping Centre when I was doing an Agro Show.

There, walking – well, more like waddling – across the food court toward me eating a cream bun was a much heftier Linda.

So sad is love and life that upon realising who she was, all I could think of when our eyes met was: “I wonder where she got that cream bun from?”

Shock horror

Who could ever have guessed that the Queen of radio “Everything in me wants to say Ian Skippen, but I won’t” Caroline Hutchinson has returned to Mix FM to once against broadcast in breakfast.

As if I couldn’t see that coming; it was about as obvious and predictable as Bob Abbot taking the biggest slice of baked cheesecake.

Well if she can do it, so can I.

I proudly announce that it is my intention to contest the seat of Fisher in four years time at the next election. It’s about time the Sunshine Coast had an independent to represent them and I’m just the man to do it.

I am completely serious about this. I want to change my career and will never return to breakfast radio again – that is, unless I lose.