I blame the Adver.

Most newspapers do it, but this paper is possibly the worst for encouraging shameless cruciverbalism on a daily basis.

Cruci-what?

‘Cruciverbalist’ is the fancy word for somebody who likes cryptic crosswords, and I am one.

I love it, by the way, that (aside from readers of this column) only a cruciverbalist would know what a cruciverbalist is, and even they had probably never heard of it until it turned out to be the answer to 17 across.

I have got myself in the habit of doing the Adver’s cryptic crossword every day, which is the perfect way to waste about half an hour of your precious time.

At least, it’s a waste of of time unless you believe researchers at the University of Buckingham, who reckon solving difficult crosswords improves ‘fluid intelligence’, and people with this ability are able to “reason more quickly and logically, manipulate data more easily and have a better grasp of complex and abstract information”.

I’m not sure that that really applies to my little brain, and whether it would really get me a job, say, with NASA, but it does get your mind working, and lifts your spirits when you complete it.

It’s also a way to impress people unless they realise that cryptic crosswords are more about learning techniques through experience, rather than anything else, and after a bit of practice you can get most of the answers to most of the clues.

Certain national newspapers, however, have a reputation for devilishly difficult cryptic crosswords, and these are the worst kind, because they can be infuriating.

They are generally not much harder than any others, but are impossible to complete without the aid of a dictionary or Google, because there are always one or two really obscure answers that even the leading nerds on Countdown have probably never have heard of.

It’s no fun to find that you fall at the last hurdle just because your knowledge of arcane Greek poetry is not up to scratch, or you are rusty on abstruse biological terms, or, indeed, because you don’t know what abstruse means.

The same rarely applies to the one in this paper, however, which has a major advantage over the rest for the simple reason that it is doable.

That’s not to say it’s easy or that you could complete it every single day, but it does give you a fighting chance.

If you miss a word or two, you are far more likely to be kicking yourself, when you find out the answer, than wanting to kick the smart aleck who set the clues - and that is the mark of a good crossword.

It’s also a good one for learning the techniques.

I have a soft spot for the crossword because, in years gone by, it was part of my job to put the puzzles page together in this paper.

To ensure that the cruciverbalists were happy I first had to see the right clues went with the right grid (of which there were 16 variations), then I had to make sure the right solutions went in on the right day - and it was easy to get wrong.

The pressure was on, but it had its rewards.

The best way to check that everything was right was to actually solve the clues before the paper was printed, which meant I could often boast to friends that of all the cruciverbalists in Swindon, I was always the first to complete it.

And if that didn’t impress them, I could hit them with my favourite crossword joke, which is:

3 across: postman setting out on his round.

How many letters?

Hundreds.