The weary ride home, evening paper on the lap, baguette in hand or simply vacantness in the eye, it's a familiar story.

'Direct Soir', by the way, is one of a plethora of free papers which have mushroomed over the last few years and now you have to battle through the forest of hands (and ex-trees) being thrust at you as you stagger out of the Metro every morning. I've counted up to five different publications being pushed at certain stations.

That's Sting on the cover, of course, and as a totally unrelated comment, some have said I occasionally resemble him. For you to check out my self-portraits I suppose and tell me if it's true!