I swear, when I one day get around to writing my amazing novel, I'm going to pluck the storyline straight from the newspaper. I read this article today about a middle-aged British couple who stole a yacht and lived it up champagne-and-cocaine style, until they ran out of food - and starved to death.

They left behind a diary, which included entries like:

"The lights are going out in my heart. We have not eaten for four weeks. I dream of my mum's steak and kidney pie, roast dinner, and sausage and mash."

It's like a Catherine Zeta-Jones rom-com, only there's no gruff, fiercely guarded, soft-on-the-inside Richard Gere type to rescue the fair maiden..