A Five-Star Romance.

The weather's getting warmer, so now we have to listen to Annoying Ellen's sex life on a regular basis. She must be pretending she's enjoying it. I've never heard anyone make so much noise in my life.

I thought one of her toyboys was killing her the first time she did it. Now I think she's doing it to get attention, as she seems to have pushed her bed in front of the window, which she makes a point of opening before she entertains.

I'm hoping it's a coincidence, but Max seems to be spending a long time in the garden in the evenings, watering the plants - or so he says. He comes back inside with a stupid, dreamy look on his face. Men are such suckers. Why can't Ellen just die - preferably in silence?

Mind you, the whole thing does remind me about the gold stars, so I have a very early night in the hope that this will persuade Max that we should earn another one. I probably shouldn't have mentioned the stars at all, though, as Max is unamused, and assumed that I am awarding marks for sexual performance. by the whole business of the stars, as he thinks I must be awarding marks for sexual performance.

He's unconvinced by my claim that it is a valid sociological study, which will be of great value to any of those market researchers who assess how often the nation is having sex. And by my claim that I merely wanted to ensure that Josh wouldn't know what the stars referred to if he ever consulted the family diary.

Max just rolls his eyes, emits an unfeasibly loud sigh, then turns his back on me and starts snoring almost immediately. So no stars are earned tonight for any reason.

I sleep fitfully for an hour before waking up in a panic. Now I know who Ellen reminds me of - a blonde James Blunt! It's been bugging me for weeks, but now I'm even more worried. If Max fancies Ellen, and Ellen looks exactly like a man, does this mean that Max is gay, and is that why we have no sex? Oh my God.