There's a guy who seems to make a mint on morning television.

He pops up everywhere. In one commercial break he extolled the virtues of a home alarm system, and in the next he was happy as Larry telling us what a great idea it was to plan and pay for a cremation.

In fact, so delighted were his family at the thought of him dying that they popped open the fizzy stuff at a sort of jolly pre-bereavement party.

But, wait a minute, the same guy was also trying to sell us gold bullion (no wonder he can afford a top of the range alarm system and pre-pay his funeral) in yet another TV advert.  Now, there's an actor with a good agent.

And God help the animal lovers who watch daytime telly. By now they must be sponsoring a snow tiger, an ageing elephant, an endangered rhino, a neglected greyhound and a diseased donkey.  And to the background of mournful music. If you didn't cough up here and now it would be a dead donkey. They're all available for about £3 a month each from the World Wildlife Fund who must get a cheaper rate on morning TV.

You would think that the WWF would do a special multiple offer for their supporters.  All five - and perhaps throw in a cat that's only got one eye - for about £12 a month. Why, you'd get change out of £150 for a full year.

Being a hard-hearted, hard-nosed kind of guy (just ask Her Indoors), I tend to watch the Jeremy Vine discussion show while I eat my Shreddies and, if the panellists get too serious or too woke, there's always the constant enticement to play a game of bingo or tombola.

Eyes down, who knew there were so many online gambling companies hitting on bored housewives, couch potatoes and those on Benefit Street?

Joke alert: How do you get five sweet, angelic Christian old folk to swear like sailors?  Have a sixth one shout 'Bingo!'. Actually, I once went to a fancy dress party as a bingo caller...I was just there to make up the numbers.

(Editor's note: Your number will be up if you don't get on with it).

Anyway, the woke brigade even want to take the fun out of bingo by banning time-honoured calls such as “Two Fat Ladies” 88! Is Legs Eleven even safe?

I suppose I must be one of the thousands of Scottish TV viewers who make up the UK's biggest complainers about adverts on TV and online.

Analysis by the Advertising Standards Authority (that's right, sir, known to all as ASA) found that Scots were more inclined to lodge complaints about what they saw on their screens, tablets, iphones and the rest. More than 3,500 tetchy teuchters - over 10 per cent of the total - moaned about TV commercials.

An ASA spokesperson said we tended to complain on the grounds of "misleadingness, harm or offence". And isn't there always someone offended, with more and more perpetually offended.

The most complained about TV advert was the one run at a recent Christmas by Tesco featuring Santa Claus displaying his Covid vaccine passport to let him into the country. The ad attracted 5,064 complaints from anti-vax campaigners, but I'm pleased to report that ASA decided they were asses and that Santa didn't breach any rules. As if.

One final thing...anyone want to sponsor an old editor for a year?  How about a month? A bottle of red wine would do it.  Ok, back to the bingo card it is.

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Thought for the Week: The older I get the more I realise that the things that cost nothing hold the most value.

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I’ve long known that weddings could divide families - especially when the nuptial day overindulgence sparks off long-held resentments, bringing in-laws and outlaws together.

You know the kind of thing. Auntie Mary is feeling pissed over the prawn cocktail because she’s been placed at the seat nearest the toilets.

You’ve maybe even come across it at christenings. An acid-tongued guest (Auntie Mary again?) whispering “Is he even sure it’s his?"

So, I should have expected something similar at a family funeral. 

Who would have thought that family members would disagree over how their loved one should be dressed in the coffin? A white shroud seemed appropriate to me, but another indignant relative threatened to buy a new shirt and trousers to ensure he went to the pearly gates in style.

And the flowers. What should they be and should they be in the form of a cross...at a humanist service.

Just when you think it’s all settled, the undertaker calls with the killer question, if you’ll pardon the pun. "Does anybody want a lock of his hair?"

Oh, and the date of the interment. What if you have five siblings who can’t agree on a date? How long do you have the body of your dear departed lying in a morgue? Deadly diplomacy at its best...or worst.

However, as someone once wrote: “Death is nothing at all. It does not count. They have only slipped away into the next room..."