Amanda Holden's plunging dress on Britain's Got Talent attracted 235 complaints to the broadcasting watchdog Ofcom.
These are the people who happily watch a programme which humiliates deluded, talentless wannabes by encouraging them to make fools of themselves, only to be ridiculed by the acid-tongued Simon Cowell.Yet they are so offended by the sight of a bit of cleavage, they feel the need to call the broadcast regulator. I bet they are also the people who grass on their neighbours for getting confused about social-distancing rules.
I imagine they would also approve of the police in Nottingham, who prosecuted a 17-year-old for overshooting a red traffic light by a few feet during a driving lesson.
Admittedly, Joseph Bell's back bumper was where his front bumper should have been, but footage showed nobody suffered any inconvenience, and he waited patiently for the lights to change before continuing. His instructor was with him in a dual-control car, and did not consider it necessary to apply the brakes.
While the magistrates saw through the petty-mindedness and ruled that Joseph should not be punished, police defended their actions, insisting "the safety of all road users is paramount".
I'm sure the Sheriff of Nottingham would be very proud.
Meanwhile, Walsall Council worker Clare Wakelam was turned away from the Turtle Bay restaurant in Birmingham because she did not have the Government's track and trace mobile phone app.
Despite offering her contact details in line with government guidance, the jobsworth on the door refused her service unless she embraced the trendy, if rather troubled, technology.
Some people are just loving this pandemic, aren't they? You know the sort, the ones who flamboyantly wear the biggest, scariest masks, the shiniest hi-viz jackets, and brandish the most official-looking clipboards. They love talking about 'PPE' and have zero empathy with anybody who might struggle with the rules, who might not have a mobile phone, or might not be comfortable with the technology.
Anyhow, I know where I won't be dining in future.
And the chances are I won't be dining with Jeremy Corbyn anytime soon, either. Yes, he was clearly in the wrong over his 'rule of nine' dinner party, but the real shock is that not only was he stupid enough to pose for a picture – and let's be honest, who gets the camera out when you go round to a friend's house for a meal? – but that somebody connected to the party, whether by accident or design, managed to leak the photo to the tabloids.
With friends like that...
Well what did you do to celebrate? Don't say you didn't know. Thursday was International Coffee Day, when the Guardian readers of the world head to their favourite fairtrade coffee house to sample some ghastly potion strong enough to nobble a racehorse.
I'm sure it was also music to the ears of our esteemed political editor Pete Madeley, who always asks for a 'lahhh-tay' with the kind of flourish normally reserved for the BBC pronunciation unit. Whereas I marked the day with a mug of instant from the supermarket.