HANDS up who else is thoroughly miserable? The financial crisis has well and truly ruined this diarist’s mojo.

We have yet to go into a recession and I’m already bored of being in a recession.

The credit crunch has been biting for more than a year and yet I am still trying to figure out how the hell the “subprime mortgage crisis” is linked to the “global liquidity crisis”.

I can’t for the life of me fathom why all American banks seem to have the most preposterous names.

And to top it all, I’ve just been told the “happy hour” is no more.

That’s right, I am afraid as a result of our collective misery pubs have scrapped happy hour.

Perhaps in such desperate times we are all simply too miserable to muster any semblance of happiness, let alone sustain it for a whole hour?

However, despair not for all is not lost.

One enterprising watering hole in Oxhey is putting on a brave face and I can confirm that I very much look forward to celebrating “credit crunch hour” at the Railway Arms with a knock-down pint in the not too distant future.

And hurrah for that!

One word of warning, however.

After a whole hour of soul-sapping, credit crunch inspired misery you may end up needing another drink to cheer yourself up.

IT is nice, however, to see how other companies are dealing with the financial turmoil.

I was lucky enough to be sent an e-mail from a “generous” car rental company this week offering “credit crunch vehicles”.

Expecting to see cars with clapped out exhausts being touted for 50p a day, I was somewhat surprised to find the first car listed was a Mercedes CLS 320 CDI.

Now I am no petrolhead, but even I realise a car’s quality – somewhat like human intelligence – should be judged by how many letters it has after its name.

The luxurious automobile, which was being offered at the knock down price of £359.99 a month, comes with leather interior, 18 inch alloys, climate control, cruise control and electric memory seats that also doubled as heated seats.

I realise half of you may well have raced off to pocket yourself such a “bargain”, but to those who remain I may have an alternative.

My old, rather lovely Renault Clio, which admittedly does have a driver’s door that doesn’t close, a leaky roof, an engine that sounds a bit like a tractor, could quickly be on the market.

I haven’t given it much thought but I’m sure it could be all yours for the penny pinching sum of £350 a month.

Let the bidding commence.

I COULD not leave without mentioning British Sausage Week – surely the greatest of all the pointless and patronising concept weeks.

My loathing of industry branded weeks – whether it be national prune week or UK beaver appreciation fortnight – is strong.

However, I am a massive fan of the sausage and I have been looking forward to a suitable time to celebrate such a glorious food for some considerable time.

What other snack after all is one able to stick into a bap, enjoy with mash potato, slice up and sprinkle on a pizza, or even stuff in your mouth without the slightest sexual suggestion?

Sausage-munchers rejoice, our time is here.