We have to look on the funny side of life just to keep us going at times. That's why there's always been a regular dose of humour in this diary.

And so I report back on how the credit crunch crisis and lack of employment is taking its toll on the life of son Matt.

Madmum can stop worrying, apparently, because he is going to apply to be on the next series of Big Brother. And that's a temp job, you see. They will be no more able to turn down his amazing mix of looks, charm and gift of the gab than the stupid people in banks who keep giving him credit cards or substantial unsecured loans.

Or he might work in a shop, although many of the ones he would be willing to consider seem to be closing down.

Phone shops are probably out, not because they have no vacancies, but, like the banks, seem willing to hand over free stuff.

In their case it's brand new mobiles with several years of free minutes every time he smiles and signs a bit of paper in their stores.

As far as I can work out, the phone businesses eventually realise no-one is paying the line rental and so on.

After a few months they cut off the service, which Matt finds almost as annoying and unjust as getting arrested.

It means he will have to go to a different phone supplier and start all over again.

I ask you, how tedious is that?

All this makes me wonder what the point is of credit checks and that fine print you sign up to when a deal is done.

Sirens should go off and the world's financial computers start flashing up 'No! No! NO!' signs every time he does this.

But, instead, some nice little person behind the counter, probably about his age and on commission, says 'Sign here, and here' and then hands over the goodies.

For some reason he has also been signing up to insurance deals, especially the ones which cover you if made redundant.

Since he doesn't have a job, this is particularly bizarre.

How do I know he's doing this? Well, he uses the address of Madmum's Cottage for most of these transactions.

The other night I came home to a handwritten note from an insurance rep, explaining that he needed to talk to Matt about some changes to his policy and why he might need additional cover.

It was on the doormat with the latest pile of letters for him from various credit and phone companies.

I mark all these 'Not at this address' and send them back, but they are always replaced by others.

No wonder the global economy's going down the plughole.