Am I alone in being annoyed when told the outcome of a film I hope to see, or in never taking a peek at the last page of a book before starting to read it?

Picture this: you're standing with your girlfriend in the 1s 9d queue at your local cinema, looking forward to seeing a thrilling romantic melodrama, when a waggish friend emerges from the cinema and calls out to you: "A smashing film, but it's got a very sad ending; Gary Cooper breaks his leg and is left to die. Ingrid Bergman wants to stay with him, but is dragged away screaming."

You still go in to see the film, but knowing how it is to end spoils it for you.

Even worse is the 'seen everything and read everything' know-all, who, noticing that you've started to read an Agatha Christie whodunit - a mystery usually guaranteed to grip you to the end, when Hercule Poirot gathers all the suspects in the library for the startling dnouement - infuriatingly blurts out: "Professor Plum is the murderer."

Does this make you feel like throwing the book at your unsolicited informant, and to lose interest in reading on?

The worst offenders are the television reviewers and women's magazine writers, who can't resist revealing all that is to happen in the next umpteen episodes of your favourite soap, or series.

The latest "exclusive" revelation about Coronation Street is that there is to be an armed siege at Freshco's - the supermarket Curly Watts manages - where, no doubt, his fiance Emma, a newly- trained member of a police armed response team, will be required to test her firearms skill.

By all accounts, just about everybody in the Street is to be involved. They've even got Ken Barlow and Mike Baldwin tied together as hostages of the raiders. Could this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship for these arch enemies?

It's been hinted that Vinnie, Natalie Barnes's current beau, is for the chop, or perhaps the bullet; Curly may be destined to suffer another heartbreak; or Alma Baldwin may yet shed more tears over her former husband. You'll have to keep watching to find out.

What has really annoyed me is the unwelcome tip-off that Victor Meldrew (Richard Wilson) is to end up with both feet in the grave in the "final" series of the cult show One Foot In The Grave.

Apparently, he is to be knocked down by a motor car driven by the delectable Hannah Gordon. Well, if you've got to go there are far worse ways of going.

Mind you, it wouldn't surprise me if we saw old Victor again, as his long lost twin-brother, or as a grouchy ghost haunting Mrs. Warboys and his other past-life tormenters.

Chewing gum is a masticatory, first produced from isinglass in the 17th century, but now made with chicle gum of the sapodilla plum tree. It was popularised in the last century by US servicemen, children, factory workers, and those struggling to stop smoking.

Evidence of its usage can be found stuck to pavements and platforms; under school desks, restaurant tables, pub bars, and behind cinema seats, and hotel bed headboards.

In the mouth - apart from causing caries (unless sugar-free) and garbled speech - it isn't overly offensive, but its disposal can cause problems. The fastidious chewer will replace the sticky mess in its original wrapper and put it in a waste bin.

But there are those, less concerned with their fellows, who simply spit it out upon the pavement, polished floor or carpet. Then you've got troubles. The tacky stuff takes some shifting and it's not cheap to do so.

Local authorities spend thousands of pounds every year to scrape it off pavements and clean carpets and floors in public buildings.

So, gum chewers, when you've chewed it enough please wrap it and bin it, or stick it behind your ear for later.