Under the counter

Recently I have been dabbling in such womanly pursuits as retail therapy and surrogate cyber-babies. I could see myself working through the alphabet, until I reached Z for Zoroastrianism. However, this week I have been forced to step back to "R" for a most womanly calling indeed: revenge.

No sensible, balanced woman should resort to the "R" word. But why be sensible? I'm going for rapacious revenge with relish on. My campaign motto is Ivana Trump's wise words from The First Wives' Club: "Don't get mad, get everything!" I'm not seeking personal revenge; in true vendetta style, I am defending the honour of a girlfriend, who has been mercilessly dumped by her husband. She is a tearful wreck, so I've decided she's got to be positive, and make the bastard suffer.

This is not something to be undertaken carelessly, lightly, or selfishly, but reverently, responsibly, and after serious thought. My numero uno favourite plan is something undetectable that gradually takes effect. Not poisoning the victim's food. Oh no, something far more satisfying: hearty doses of Olympian Performance Crash Weight Gain powder (vanilla creme flavour). Bastard, we'll call him Mr B, has moved to the spare room, and, when not out, has the audacity still to expect to eat his meals at home. No problem; this provides ample opportunity for sprinklings of vanilla powder. We will watch Mr B balloon while she hones her thighs to perfection in the gym. Once the victim is satisfactorily roly-poly, as a piquant touch we will remove his favourite clothes and replace them with identical ones, but two sizes smaller. Less obvious than cutting the sleeves off his suits, and so much more cruel.

Hurting him in his wallet is, of course, very effective, but must be done discreetly. Keying every panel of his new metallic-finish BMW Z3 convertible is something his wife would never do, but I certainly have no problem. A scratch all the way round his penis-extension should be very expensive indeed, and such a lot of hassle for him.

As tearful wreck of wife has not been getting any sleep, marooned in her lonely king-size bed, we had better make sure Mr B keeps her company. His sleeping pills are uncannily similar to Pro-Plus pills, and are easily swapped over. Nights in the spare room won't be quite so somnolent now.

Then, just so she's even on the mental cruelty stakes, I've given her a few ClearBlue pregnancy test kits, which a pregnant friend of mine has kindly used for us, to semi-conceal in the bathroom. This, plus the photocopies of articles on multiple births, should really get Mr B hot under the collar. I do so love revenge.

Recipe for revenge: Joe Weider's Olympian Performance Crash Weight Gain calorie-dense powdered drink, in a choice of flavours, 1.5kg tub, pounds 6.99, from branches of Holland & Barrett. Pro-Plus, pack of 24 tablets, pounds l.89, ClearBlue one-step pregnancy test, double pack, pounds 11.45, from Boots. Complete respray of a metallic-finish BMW Z3, pounds 2,000-pounds 2,500 at your nearest BMW garage bodyshop.