Forget the water, I'll crack open the vodka and go down listening to Bowie

The government leaflet telling us how to survive a terrorist attack arrived just in time down here in leafy Gloucestershire. My dog, Huxley, had raided the larder and I think he got into my authentic cassoulet toulousain which I was "ageing" in there. The thing is full of beans and it had quite an effect on his digestive system. To cut a long story short, he had a significant "accident" in the hall just as I was looking at the leaflet. With a deft flick of the wrist the leaflet was pressed into action and saved the day. I had to dispose of it quickly and only managed to read the first part of it, but I got the gist. Buy lots of water, stay indoors, listen to the BBC, be nasty to the Spanish family that lives up the road who look a little Middle Eastern and be afraid, very afraid.

The government leaflet telling us how to survive a terrorist attack arrived just in time down here in leafy Gloucestershire. My dog, Huxley, had raided the larder and I think he got into my authentic cassoulet toulousain which I was "ageing" in there. The thing is full of beans and it had quite an effect on his digestive system. To cut a long story short, he had a significant "accident" in the hall just as I was looking at the leaflet. With a deft flick of the wrist the leaflet was pressed into action and saved the day. I had to dispose of it quickly and only managed to read the first part of it, but I got the gist. Buy lots of water, stay indoors, listen to the BBC, be nasty to the Spanish family that lives up the road who look a little Middle Eastern and be afraid, very afraid.

What a load of bollocks. The very idea that if I encounter the radioactive fall-out cloud from a dirty bomb I'll be listening to Simon Mayo for advice while downing vats of Evian is preposterous. I'll crack open the vodka and go down listening to something dramatic by Bowie.

Admittedly, I did leave the big smoke because I was fearful for my family. I became convinced that Notting Hill was the number one target for al-Qa'ida. There are so many high-profile targets within a square mile: three Starbucks, Electric House, Stella McCartney - the list is endless. I decided to get the family out of there as quickly as I could before the impending Armageddon.

It was only a couple of days after moving here that I realised I was equidistant from Brize Norton and Fairford airbases. If either of these were attacked, we'd be buggered. I had to take action, so I've been driving round the area, turning all the road signs to the bases in the direction of Swindon. If the terrorist hordes attack, they should be fooled and do us all a favour at the same time.

That is if they don't get lost in the complicated roundabout system which Swindon inhabitants set up as a front-line defence. It's not just terrorism that we have to fear down here. Pinned to the wall of the local shop is a monthly report from the police of all crime in the area. This is a truly frightening document. Just last month, in a village not four miles away from where my children sleep, an allotment shed was broken into and a spade stolen. God knows what evil these fiends are planning. Then three days ago, two "youths" were seen acting suspiciously near the cricket pavilion. Maybe they were looking for a place to drink the four cans of strong cider that were found strewn in a nearby field? God only knows, but better be safe than sorry. I am on red alert.

Yesterday I saw a large group of suspicious-looking people on horseback ride past the house. They were wearing red coats and seemed to be in a hurry. When I asked them what they were up to, one of them told me to mind my own business and another told me to "eff orf, townie". I knew red is the colour of danger, but I didn't know who to report it to. I rang the local BBC radio station, which happened to be having a phone-in on the county's ever-rising house prices. When I got on, I aired my suspicions but the DJ told me I was being ridiculous and that they weren't even talking about this subject. What the hell am I supposed to do? If I see something suspicious, do I have to wait for the local radio station to decide to have a phone-in about that particular subject before I can report it? In the end, the man was quite rude and said it was people like me who were pricing locals out of the area anyway.

I was only trying to help, but from now on I shall keep my concerns to myself. It wasn't like this when I was a child. Then we had a proper nuclear threat from a proper enemy. We all knew where we stood. I'm going to have some more vodka and think about stuff.