SO at the time of writing El Trump has announced he is going to have a ‘big day’ because he’s finally going to get the chance to build the wall.

You know the one — not a lovely little Cotswold dry stone one or a useful one around the garden to keep the dog in. The one which brings to mind other famous walls such as the one dividing the West Bank or the one that used to cut Berlin in half.

Call me mean but I can’t help hoping they ‘accidentally’ brick him into it and save poor old America from the horrors of the orange-skinned mop top with all the morals of a dead weasel. We could sing a nice song about it — all in all, he’s just another p**** in the wall.

What’s in a name?

PULLBAG, Moppy and Bouncer are looking forward to seeing each other. There will be lots of delicious food and oodles of drinks for everyone.

It sounds like the beginning of a children’s story, I know, but this is actually real life – or I supposed you could say it’s a sequel to a children’s story: it’s the school reunion.

 When the group message first appeared on Facebook I was quite excited — wow, I thought, a chance to see people I haven’t seen for 28 years. What are they up to? Where did life take them?

Then I did a bit of Facebook stalking and realised there were a number of faces I’d completely forgotten about and, more worryingly, a number I didn’t recognise at all.

And then I started to feel that it would be foolish to think an evening with a bunch of women I haven’t thought about since I was 18 with whom I probably have nothing in common and who I wasn’t particularly good friends with at school would actually be fun.  Or would it? Maybe if I could be a fly on the wall...

My trepidation has led to much soul-searching and my conclusion is that I don’t, and never did, feel part of the gang. And I have a hunch that it’s got something to do with the fact that, unlike many of the others, I never had a nickname.

Now there are two types of nickname: the ones you know about (good) and the ones you don’t (bad). I learnt this from first hand experience when many years after working in a newsroom with the Monkey, the Weasel and the Doctor, the latter two (one a good pal, one a boyfriend) revealed that, unknown to me, I too had a nickname: Cellblock. As in Prisoner Cellblock H. Because I had very short hair and was quite, erm, bossy. Nice. Thanks, chaps!

My next nickname was given to me by the Adver’s larger-than-life business editor and that was Bomber — as in Second World War pilot Bomber Harris. Robbo was also responsible for staff members called Spider and Chocco. Although unlike Spider and Chocco, Bomber never really took off. Unfortunate for a pilot. Though it did lead to one of my favourite ever phone conversations...

Robbo: Is that Bomber?

Me: Yes, you know it is, you just rang my mobile.

Robbo: Have you got all the business copy you need?

Me: Yes — you never ring to ask that, what’s going on?

Robbo: I’m calling from Heathrow, I’m about to get on a plane.

Me: Did you call me from Heathrow just so you could shout ‘Hello Bomber’ down the phone?

Robbo: Yes.

So back to the issue at hand — the school reunion — my current thinking is that I either wasn’t popular enough or didn’t stand out enough to have a nickname at school and therefore I don’t feel, even now, that I would fit in at the reunion.

I haven’t made a definite decision yet — I’ll probably talk it over with my good friend, who coincidentally is responsible for my latest and favourite nickname. Fancy a drink, Subaru? Gill.i.am needs a pow wow.

Try this brainteaser

EVERY Saturday we run a puzzles page in Saturday Extra and the most inscrutable of these is the Impossipuzzle, which is very accurately named because I for one have never been able to work out the answer.

It’s always full of people playing marbles, collecting stamps and sharing apples, so I thought I’d have a go at setting an Impossipuzzle more anchored in real, day to day life. Here we go.

Gill cares about the environment and is a dedicated recycler. She wants to put out her recycling bin for it to be emptied.  Gill lives on a street corner and has been told by the council she can put her recycling out on Street A on a Wednesday and on Street B on a Friday.

Theoretically, this means that Gill can get her recycling collected twice a week. So if Gill puts out her recycling on a Wednesday on Street A and on a Friday on Street B and it is not collected on either occasion, which day should Gill put out her recycling? Can you work it out?