I refuse to trust he who wears Argos jewellery

I was watching documentary maker Louis Theroux doing a programme about plastic surgery and that level of vanity scares me. I'm happy to look at myself through a magnifying mirror but that scalpel stuff - not for me.

I doubt I could undergo plastic surgery because I have a fear of operations. I had two very painful ops in the past – cesareans; and if I ever got pregnant again, that foetus would have to stay in there until medical science finds a way of the baby coming out through my nostril the size of a pea.

If I were to consider elected surgery, it would only be for the implantation of a SatNav. Wow... I could be on to something there!

Anyway, I vowed that if my foot were to drop off, I'd quite happily fore-go an operation and take some Paracetamol, spray Dettol on the affected area and hop around with tissue stuffed in my shoe.

If I don't age very well I'll just drape some intricate lace over my mirrors to give me the illusion that I'm looking at myself with movie star lighting and special effects.

I digress... where was I? Oh yes, plastic surgery.

While watching the programme, I noticed that the doctor who prominently featured in the documentary looked like he'd done a lot of poor standard work on himself. His face was stretched to capacity and he really didn't look a pretty sight. Funnily enough it wasn't purely the operations on the programme which turned me off. Nor the state of the doctors' face. Even looking at the surgeon's work in progress made me think what were some of his patients thinking when the surgeon put in fake pectoral muscles which made the men who underwent surgery look like they had C cup breasts.

The main thing that put me off Dr Plastic von Surgeonberg was his garish jewellery. He was wearing the most common-looking gold sovereign ring and a great big chunky gold bracelet... who me? A snob? Never! It was the kind of clumsy, ugly jewellery you'd expect to see on a darts player or a football hooligan.

If a surgeon came to me, drawing felt-tip lines all over my body wearing cheap gold, I'd be up off the gurney and running down the corridor with my bottom flapping out the back of my gown without a second look!