Ges on the Box: Jeepers creepers, it’s a cheese grater...

THERE are certain things I spend my life avoiding.

Those that rile me — like automatic tills at the supermarket. I argue back when they tell blatant lies about what I’ve put in my bag. Now I boycott them — if they’re the future of supermarket shopping then God help us.

I’m equally as difficult about computers phoning me up trying to get me to buy something. At least I assume that’s what they’re doing . . . I’ve never let them get past “hello” before I replace the receiver .

Muzak on the telephone as I await a real, live, human to speak to; bank help desks where nobody appears to speak English; signs in theme parks that tell me I ‘only’ have a 45 minute wait from this point — all guaranteed to get my blood boiling.

And then there are the things I avoid because they frighten me. Like spiders. Cheese graters. Roller-coaster rides. The M6 on a Friday night.

Cheese graters? Yup, terrified of them. Honest. If there were a “silly phobia” society I’d join it, but as it is, I just don’t cook anything which requires me to grate cheese.

And let’s not forget horror movies. Or even slightly scary films. Sometimes “Coronation Street” has me jumping with nerves (it’s the do-do do-do music). So I don’t watch them. Anything rated PG with an advisory about frightening moments and that’s me out.

So last week, when BBC decided to show “Torchwood” every night at 9pm I thought I was all right — Him Indoors doesn’t like John Barrowman.

But, one trailer later, and he had his week planned around the sci-fi and I was relegated to sitting in the cupboard. That’s not as bad as it sounds, actually, because the computer’s in there so at least I could buy things off eBay. (I now own an exercise bike, a book called “Fat Bloke Slims” and a leopardskin catsuit — for when the bike and the book work).

So far, so good. But Him Indoors, being a man, insisted on giving me a blow-by-blow account of the plot each night as we lay there in bed (I reckon the honeymoon’s well and truly over...)

So, for the past week my dreams have been full of aliens called 456s (he described them as green and slimy, which was enough to fuel my imagination) trying to steal my parrot who suddenly forgot his usual mantra of “Hello gorgeous, giz a kiss” and started intoning “we are coming, we are coming”.

We’re going to see the new Harry Potter tomorrow. It might only be a 12A but, given my track record with Harry Potter films, will no doubt have me waking in a cold sweat at 3.30 every morning for the next week.