It's been an emotionally draining week, hasn’t it? No sooner had Paris Hilton minced her way out of her jail cell than word broke that the Spice Girls were getting back together for a world tour.

I mean, how much excitement can a bloke handle? At least Paris was looking good, wasn’t she? A little bit tired maybe. But you get that after a couple of weeks sleeping with one eye shut and the other keeping a close watch on the big black girl called Fred who sleeps on the top bunk.

Poor old Paris. Life just hasn’t been fair lately but I dare say she’ll bounce back. I saw her on the telly the other night saying the whole prison experience had changed her. It’###### her a better person, apparently.
It seems she spent a lot of time praying while she was inside.

Now I’m not about to bag someone for finding religion but I don’t think “Oh my God, oh my God, get me out of here!” actually counts as praying. I was also a bit skeptical when she said she spent a lot of her time behind bars reading and writing. I mean, who knew she was able to read?

When you’re as rich as she is, you pay people to do that for you. Actually, by the time she finished her jail term she was probably paying Fred to read her fan mail to her.

“Dear Paris, I think you are so cool. When I grow up I want to be like you.”
When she was released a tad early last month I was horrified to see some bimbo on TV rejoicing because it was “just like the day Nelson Mandela was set free”.

I can see the similarities but, seriously, Nelson Mandela isn’t even blond!
I’m with the US television news presenter who refused to lead her bulletin with the latest Paris Hilton story. Then she screwed up, shredded and attempted to set fire to the script on air.

You go, girl! (Sorry. For a second there I was a little bit more in touch with my feminine side than I should have been). I saw Paris telling Larry King that the strip search she endured in jail was the most traumatic experience of her life.

Obviously the girl hasn’t been forced to listen to any of her own music or watch that sex video she starred in. (No, darling, I haven’t seen it but all the other boys at work have and they say it was really funny).

Anyway, Paris reckons she’s now going to devote her life to helping people less fortunate than her. Lets face it, that’s just about everyone except her mum and dad and Bill Gates. So if you’ll just show me where the queue starts, I’ll be lining up for my share.

Just like I’ll be lining up for tickets to the Spice Girls concert. I mean to say, I’ve hardly slept a wink since they announced they were getting back together. Don’t laugh, this is serious to some people.

I was going through some pretty tough times back in the ’90s when Poxy, Scarface, Sportsbra, Tinnea and Spotty sang those immortal lyrics “Tell Me What You Want, What You Really Really Want, Yeah!, Tell Me What You Want, What You Really Really Want, I Want A .. I Want A …I Want A…”

And then it all became clear. Life was worth living after all – the Spice Girls said so. Dumbo, Smelly, Wormy, Windy and Footrot sold 30 million albums and topped the charts around the world before announcing they were sick of sharing their flavoured lip gloss and each of them was going to pursue their separate dreams.

Scary went off to have babies. I think Baby might be doing the same now.
Gerry Halliwell – I think she was Oregano Spice or something – probably should have had babies as well, but instead chose to record some very ordinary songs before public bouts of anorexia, obesity, bulimia then anorexia again.

I think one of the others represented Finland in the world sheepdog trials, and another might have done some time in jail or rehab or something.
Ah, I miss the good old days. Welcome back, Paris. Good luck, Spice Girls.

You’re right. It is just like the day Nelson Mandela was released!

All together now ... So Tell Me What You Want, What You Really, Really Want, Yeah, Tell Me What You Want …