Anyway, all this pirate talk got Lai See mulling over a certain television ad.

When Schroders, the investment bank, aired its latest advertisement, we thought we were listening to the strains of Eleanor Rigby.

Surprising, given that The Beatles are famously opposed to having their songs used in advertisements.

Lai See called up the investment bankers to ask how they managed it.

Marketing boss James Campion assured us that 'although [the tune] has the basic melody of Eleanor Rigby, it is in fact different'.

He claims that if you listen to the original and the copy at the same time, they aren't really all that alike.

'The guy who put this together is an extremely big Beatles' fan,' Mr Campion tells us.

'He said there was no way we could afford to pay the royalties required for The Beatles.' Beatle maniac Lai See thinks it sounds like the investment bank made a few subtle changes to save money.

Such tactics would allow Schroders to reap the benefits of someone else's genius for a low fee.

Lai See finds that sort of behaviour outrageous.

As she herself is always asking: 'All the low-fee people. Where do they all come from?' Here's some food for thought.

The mobile-phone firms have stopped giving noodles and bananas out to prospective customers.

Now it appears that they've started taking groceries back.

We concede it could just be a bizarre and thrice-repeated typographical error.

Or has Sunday really begun accepting milk products in lieu of cash? A reader recently received this: 'Having received your cheese by mail but the date is not clear, therefore we cannot cash your cheese.' 'We send back the cheese to you and enclosed herewith the payment slip.' Guess she forgot to check the 'best before' date on her edam.

We've been hearing a lot about people who want their baby to arrive with the millennium.

Between now and April 1, couples who engage in sex have the best chance of celebrating the new year in a maternity ward.

But various countries disagree over which day would be a sure bet to conceive a child.

According to Agence France-Presse, the British have opted for March 17, the Americans April 9, the French April 1 and the Norwegians are betting on the period between March 30 and April 10.

Last Wednesday, Britain's ITV television channel launched a 'Birth rate 2000' campaign by airing risque programmes.

This was billed as an 'introduction for couples hoping to conceive a baby that will be born on New Year's Day 2000'.

In Norway, the small village of Otta is sponsoring sexual events at the end of this month - including erotic movies and free hotel rooms - to encourage couples to be on target on March 30.

What Lai See wants to know is, why do people WANT to give birth in the first second of 2000? We can think of nothing worse.

Picture it: The baby's head appears just as midnight causes all the computerised medical equipment to stop.

You are plunged into sudden blackness as the local power station goes Y2K.

The confetti-draped doctor, called in from the biggest party night in 1,000 years, is too drunk to notice.

He tries to perform a Caesarean in the dark, and passes out after cutting off his own foot.

The 12-year-old tonsillectomy patient next door delivers your baby by candle light.

Forget it. If Lai See ever gives birth it will be the spontaneous, old-fashioned way.

Under suitably blinding surgical lights, beside suitably blipping surgical monitors, ingesting a mind numbing array of drugs.