Is there no end to modern plagiarism? Within an hour of me writing of the “UK banking corpus/corpse” last night, this headline appeared in The Times – “A desperate attempt to revive a corpse - The second bailout shows that the Government has acted as imprudently as the banks themselves.”

Well, believe it or not, I did go back to the vet’s clinic. And, worse, I was fleeced again. I appreciate this doesn’t put me in a good light so let me explain . . . The vet had called me every day for over a week to solicitously enquire about Ryan’s health. When I said yesterday that he was still - shall we say - rather liquid, she asked me to call in to pick up a prescription for another antibiotic. Arriving at the clinic, I asked the receptionist for this but, not having it, she went off to talk to the vet. The latter emerged with the prescription and two packs of pills which looked to me like free samples from the manufacturers. So I took these and bid them farewell, whereupon the vet said I needed to cough up 20 euros and promptly disappeared. The receptionist offered me a plastic bag but, resisting the temptation to tell her where to shove it, I politely declined, paid up and stepped over the threshold I’d vowed never to cross again. The new antibiotic is, of course, the one I asked for ten days ago and for which I’ve now paid 165 euros. I’m in the wrong business. But at least one of the new products will make Ryan’s faeces and farts smell nicer. So, not a complete loss.

But the good news is that the engineer came today to fix my washing machine, just as the charming young lady in the shop had promised yesterday. He didn’t actually know anything about the diagram of the leaking hose that I’d given her, but he did have one in his van so all ended well. And, at 48 euros, it was only a third of the cost of a sick dog.

Dining at one of my favourite tapas bars last night, I was told by the owner that the Spanish word for the big set of bellows hanging from his ceiling is el fuelle: that the word for the chap who works them is el follador; and that the verb is follar. Which all came as news to me. And might just come as a surprise to some Spanish readers as well.

I tried to get some train times tonight on the web page of Spain’s national carrier, RENFE. But I was prevented by the warning that their security certificate was untrustworthy. Which can’t help internet bookings, I wouldn’t have thought.

Finally, for all fellow pedants . . . The Liverpool manager, Rafa Benitez, is quoted as saying “We are disappointed and frustrated at the amount of points we have dropped at home this season.” Showing just why his English teacher should be hung, drawn and quartered. By any number of executioners.