You'll be most pleased to learn that McKeith has surrendered her contraband (or, as Shaun calls it "sh*t that yer not mean to 'ave"). And you'll never guess where she hid it...

"I smuggled it all in my knickers, I have a small bottom and I just grew it a bit when I came in here. I had special pockets in my Marks & Spencer's knickers that I made myself. I feel proud of the fact I smuggled all this contraband in my knickers, I had a lot more but I've used it. Do you think I was going to come here without any flavour? You must be mad. That's why the dishes tasted so good, I could happily eat the food without flavour, but I did it for the team. They really appreciated it. It was hard to keep it a secret."

Eh, but you didn't though, Gillian, what with the "Can you open that pot there again, ooooh, that's good... I put something in it, yeah, SALT." And there I thought she'd built a TV career for herself from shunning salt and its many by products.

But back to Gillian's tiny bottom *shudders*, it's was so small in fact that she managed to smuggle in no less than ten items, including a large bag of cumin powder, a large bag of celery and garlic powder, eight herbal stock cubes, several nettle tea bags, bag of rock salt, large bag of herbal seasoning powder, rock salt, garlic powder, stock cubes and no less than five bags of miso soup powder. If I'd shoved all that into the secret compartments in my kickers it'd be like a Kardashian's ass cobbled together with stickle bricks.

In some non-Gillian themed news, although it does involve Gillian, Aggro's mother has spoken out about her invisible son. The Sun reports: "Family and friends arriving to meet the stars being kicked out last night tore into ITV bosses for focusing too much on Gillian. Aggro Santos's mother Christina Lessa, 60, said: 'I don't think we've seen enough of Aggro. It's become The Gillian McKeith Show, but I think they should be fair and let us see everyone."

Yeah, that's not essentially Giller's fault though, Christina, your son's well boring. In fact, most of the people immune from tonight's public vote are exceedingly yawnsome. A bit like this piece, in fact.... Sorry, I've got a lot going on lately. Apart from that, I think the morning commute has also started taking its toll. If it's not school kids shrieking out of them about sweet buggering all, monopolising the seats (I often daydream about plucking one up, comandeering its perch, and sitting it back on my lap like nothing's happened) and trying to take you out with their backpacks, or folk yawning with vigour in your face, or some article's earphones drilling a hole in your brain, it's some middle aged man resting his shrub on your shoulder.

Honestly, this morning, I had a grown man's groin sitting on my shoulder like a hairy parrot. Last week, I had a 14-year-old boy's nethers pressed against my hip, but that couldn't be helped; the 7:59am train was running 20 minutes late so it was bound to happen, but that creature this morning had no such excuse. Sure enough, there were people standing, however, there was more than enough room for him to move back a smidge... After much coughing, harrumphing, squirming and elbowing, I realised he was probably enjoying the activity, so I just sat there, with a grown man's sack resting itself on my shoulder. Short of saying, "Sorry sir, but could you please get your groin off me", what else was I meant to do - get up and lose my seat? Never.

Speaking of crotches; if you were wondering what Kayla Collins is on the show to plug (with that filled beak she could plug the Hoover Dam *twiddles cigar*) - she's just after designing her own range of swimwear. Classy.