Sometimes God moves in mysterious ways. Last week I was told I had to go to some ball or other for a bit of corporate schmoozing. Not my idea of heaven (free booze, admittedly – but also the problem that I can’t get smashed in front of the client), but needs must.

The problem is, I don’t have a dinner suit, and my finances are a little stretched at the moment what with having just moved house (again) and all. So I went off to Marks and Sparks and did the decent thing - £150 for a machine-washable el-cheapo version. It’ll do, but still a bit of an outlay right now.

And when I get back to my desk, what do I see? An email out of the blue from an agency in Sweden asking me to do a little proofing. Which will pay… £150.

Odd, eh?

There was a bit of a disaster here in the UK the other day, when 19 people drowned collecting cockles on Morecambe Bay, which isn’t all that far from where I grew up.

The funny thing about this tragedy was that these people were all Chinese (and the Chinese population in the UK isn’t known for its fondness for shellfish), they were picking cockles at high tide, and it was the middle of the night.

It turns out that the most likely explanation is that they were illegal immigrants who were working for a pittance – possibly as little as GBP1 (USD 1.50 or so) a day. As you can imagine, there’s bee a lot of sucking of teeth and hand-wringing about this – and people are understandably a bit concerned as to how this can be happening under their very noses.

The fact is, it’s been happening for years. I used to live in Norfolk in the East of England, where there are a lot of strawberry fields amongst other crops, and an awful lot of Eastern-European and middle-Eastern looking people picking them. The people of Norfilk may be many things, but swarthy they are not. So guess what’s going on there. And I should imagine it’s the same wherever there’s a labour-intensive harvest anywhere in the developed world.

It’s a disgusting trade in people – but we’re all complicit. Last summer was very warm in England, and the supermarkets were doing a roaring trade in very, very cheap strawberries. Fair enough you might think. But have you ever wondered how they can afford to sell 500g of strawberries for 99p?

Exactly. Your hands are as dirty as mine.

The most depressing this was the way by the evening the story about those poor displaced sould dying a sad and lonely death thousands of miles from home has been relegated to the middle of the news bulletins. Jordan had been booted off I’m a Celebrity…

There was a bit of a disaster here in the UK the other day, when 19 people drowned collecting cockles on Morecambe Bay, which isn’t all that far from where I grew up.

The funny thing about this tragedy was that these people were all Chinese (and the Chinese population in the UK isn’t known for its fondness for shellfish), they were picking cockles at high tide, and it was the middle of the night.

It turns out that the most likely explanation is that they were illegal immigrants who were working for a pittance – possibly as little as GBP1 (USD 1.50 or so) a day. As you can imagine, there’s bee a lot of sucking of teeth and hand-wringing about this – and people are understandably a bit concerned as to how this can be happening under their very noses.

The fact is, it’s been happening for years. I used to live in Norfolk in the East of England, where there are a lot of strawberry fields amongst other crops, and an awful lot of Eastern-European and middle-Eastern looking people picking them. The people of Norfilk may be many things, but swarthy they are not. So guess what’s going on there. And I should imagine it’s the same wherever there’s a labour-intensive harvest anywhere in the developed world.

It’s a disgusting trade in people – but we’re all complicit. Last summer was very warm in England, and the supermarkets were doing a roaring trade in very, very cheap strawberries. Fair enough you might think. But have you ever wondered how they can afford to sell 500g of strawberries for 99p?

Exactly. Your hands are as dirty as mine.

The most depressing this was the way by the evening the story about those poor displaced sould dying a sad and lonely death thousands of miles from home has been relegated to the middle of the news bulletins. Jordan had been booted off I’m a Celebrity…