According to press reports last weekend Madonna has decided to give Botox the boot, ease up on fillers and just chill out on the whole gym thing.

After snide remarks in the press about her "frozen and puffy face" she's decided she's had enough of trying to out-smart the effects of time like Road Runner escaping Wile E. Coyote's traps (though after over three decades of not giving a baboon's arse about what the tabloids say I'd be surprised if that was actually the reason). All I can say is, good for her.

I mean, she's hardly gone down without a fight; well in fact, she's not gone down, she's plateau'd. For most women of 53 I imagine the challenges of maintaining a muscular physique whilst trying out a myriad of procedures and injections sounds way too much effort. I'm only 36 yet just the thought of it sounds exhausting.

Madonna is a global superstar with a career straddling 35 years and is blessed with a brood of beautiful young children; I reckon it's nothing to do with press reports

musicIt's hardly surprising my kids are fans of music. Radio 1 has been piped into their heads on a daily basis since birth. There's little respite from the groovy cool sounds wherever they go in the house as wirelesses are scattered around like little pockets of pop; there's even a digital shower radio in the bathroom so all their basic bodily functions are performed to the strains of Plan B or Lady Gaga.
Music continues in the car; Radio if I win, or more likely, one of Lola's albums, be it Charlie & Lola's greatest hits or TV favourite theme tunes (Scooby-dooby-do, where are you?).

Recently though, Lola's taste has evolved. Her dad plays her Bowie, Beatles and other retro greats but aside from that she still likes quite kiddie stuff.

The other day all this changed with 3 little words; we were in the kitchen with the usual radio bubbling on in the background when she suddenly said "I like this". I quickly snapped my ears into identifying the song and, more importantly, the artist. Please,

computerThis week it was announced by the government that you could de-porn your computer. Apparently, you just fit a dowdy Victorian skirt over the screen and if ever some lass pops into vision with her pants off, the keyboard emits a loud shrieking noise before the whole thing combusts into a billion shards.

OK, if I'm honest I'm not entirely sure how it'll work but let's not get bogged down with details. The point is your children (and you) will be protected from porn. Various networks are offering the option so it must be in demand, and I can understand why.

As a youngster, stumbling upon pictures of nudity or sex is disturbing, shocking and just plain weird. Whether it's 'old skool' stumbling as we did over a copy of 'Men Only', often shoved in a park hedge (what was all that about?! Are badgers into porn? If they were, surely they'd want pictures of a sexy sow in suspenders?). Or finding one of your dad's VHS tapes of some moustachioed idiot bonking some big-boobed lovely.

Or if it's