Archaelogy. OK, what we’re going to do is take twenty people in corduroy trousers with beards (including the women) and those glasses that make your eyes like half the size they actually are. Then we’re going to dig a very big hole in a field in the middle of nowhere in the rain. And we’re going to take ages doing it to avoid any damage to the potential “find”. Then we’re going to section areas off with lots of string attached to little posts that we’ve bought from the archaelogical supply shop. And we’re going to scratch around on our knees with toothbrushes for the next two weeks until we find something that could be a broken arrowhead from the 12th century but is more likely to be just an anonymous bit of flint that’s no doubt dreamt of being discovered by a bespectacled, muddy-kneed geek, for the last million years.

And while we’re on the subject, how long does a body have to be buried before it’s discovery is considered an archaelogical find and not cause for a murder investigation? And that’s not a cryptic confession of guilt, either. The only thing I’ve ever buried in the ground is my guinea pig. And that was only because it was too big to flush down the toilet.

Have a good week.