IT makes depressing reading. Laughter is not only the best medicine when it comes to cheering you up and making you feel better, it helps you keep fit and lose weight as well.

Up to 80 muscles are used when you have a really good laugh, giving the body a healthy workout. The heart beats faster, blood pressure rises and oxygen levels in the blood increase like they do when you're in the gym, say scientists.

On top of this, the natural drug endorphin is released into the brain, promoting a feeling of well-being. Laughing for one minute is, apparently, as refreshing as 45 minutes' exercise.

So why depressing? In theory it appears an easy way to keep in trim without leaving the house and to get a high without popping a pill. But in practice it's another thing entirely. Think about it - when did you last have a really good laugh? A laugh that made you feel great, like life's worth living?

Can't remember? Join the club, I've racked my brains and come to the sad conclusion that, in my case, it was at least ten years ago.

From my early teens to my mid-20s, having a laugh used to come easy. Out with my friends, almost every conversation was peppered with loud bouts of laughter. We'd spend more time giggling and chortling than we would talking. And when we went out "for a laugh", we really would have one.

But, moving into my late 20s and 30s, that hasn't been the case. On the increasingly rare occasions that I go out with friends, we haven't been able to capture that old magic, the endless laughter that typified nights out.

I know why - responsibility. Work, home, family and other stressful things which you suddenly find yourself in the midst of. It's not the same as being a student, when the only real worry is how you'll afford your next night out. Now, for me and many of my friends, there are children too - a huge responsibility that's more likely to have you screaming than laughing.

So when we get the chance to go out "for a laugh", although the intention is there, we invariably end up moaning about our jobs, our homes, our partners, our children - in short, our lives.

And, as mothers, we're up so early with the children we can't even have a good drink to lift the mood. One glass of wine and we're back on the soft drinks.

Even without these responsibilities, the population at large hasn't much to laugh about. Widespread flooding, tornadoes, a crumbling rail network, a second fuel crisis looming, a Govern-ment that doesn't listen. It's all cheery stuff. Then there's those so-called comedies on the telly. Bar one or two American imports and British re-runs, they only make us more depressed.

With nothing to be thrilled about, where do the laughs come from? I've even read of laughter clubs in some places, to get people chuckling.

Thankfully, children are still laughing. About 400 times a day on average. Adults are said to laugh about 15 times.

Even that seems a lot to me. If I'm honest I don't think a good guffaw would benefit the majority of people. Most of us haven't laughed for so long that if something set us off, far from feeling health benefits, our hearts couldn't take it.

DAMART underwear is coming into its own as a fashion item, popular with stars such as Geri Halliwell and Denise Van Outen. What surprises me is that it's take this long. In my experience Damart undies have always been a cut above the rest - warm, comfortable and pretty into the bargain.

In the early Eighties, my sister was turned away from a London casino for wearing a T-shirt. Gutsy as she is, she removed it and approached the doorman in a Damart vest. He let her in without so much as a raised eyebrow.

So underwear can look great. Only I hope men don't jump on the bandwagon. Stick a bloke in a vest and, no matter how good looking, he'll suddenly resemble Rab C Nesbitt.