Imagine my excitement last night when, before the baseball, while I was eating hot mexican chicken with chilli black beans and rice and supping Peroni, I flicked idly through the channels and came across a show on BBC2 called "Grow Your Own Drugs".
I threw my chicken bones over my shoulder, reached for my pad and pen, and perched on the edge of the sofa in a state of excited anticipation. Unfortunately, the show was not as billed. Instead of invaluable gardening tips on how to grow nuclear bomb skunk with the buds still on, all I got were recipes for face cream and cold sore cures.
And then, this morning, Amazon has the nerve to send me an email urging me to buy the book of the series. 45% off the cover price? No wonder!