A leading supermarket (clue: it's not Sainsbury's and its name rhymes with UNESCO) is launching a fiendish new anti-theft device that is so cunning it is quite, quite brilliant. Or it's really, really stupid - I can't make up my mind.

After much thought, many heated debates and handfuls of hallucinogens, the wise old owls who run the show at Tesco have decided they are going to play the theme tunes to The Sweeney and The Bill over the loudspeakers at their petrol stations.

This, they say, will deter people who may otherwise be tempted to fill up their car and leave without paying by planting the idea in their subconscious that one false move on their part could lead to a bit of rough and tumble with a couple of grizzled old coppers in a dodgy Cortina. Or, in the case of The Bill, a thick plod who will not even notice they have no tax disc, no number plates, a large bag marked "swag" in the back seat and blood dripping from the boot and will wave them on their way while whistling tunelessly.

All joking aside, Tesco claims tests prove that playing cop show theme songs leads to a 20 per cent drop in no-pay-drive-aways. And this doesn't even take into the account the customers who actually offer to pay double if the petrol station staff agree to take out the Dixon Of Dock Green tape and jump up and down on it until they are weak with exhaustion.

In a similar silly vein, supermarket scientists have also discovered that if you play rousing German oompah music in stores, the sales of German wines go through the roof, while a sultry French serenade on the in-store turntables will see bottles of French plonk hopping off the shelves five times quicker than their neighbouring Teutonic tipples.

Now this is all well and good, but what if control of the Tesco turntables falls into the wrong hands? What if some evil genius bent on destruction gets a job as the in-store DJ (and remember, Chris Evans is out of work at the moment)?

Imagine the scenes of terror at the petrol pumps when some sick individual flicks a switch and the theme from Crimewatch UK is replaced by Trammps Disco Inferno followed by Take That and Lulu (oh, the horror) with Relight My Fire before Elvis takes to the mike to tell all and sundry that he's "a hunka, hunka burning love".

And what if that same maniacal music-lover were to take over the store itself?

Just a few short notes from any Westlife song (they all sound the same, so it doesn't really matter which) would lead to nothing less than a stampede of hysterical teenage girls shoving old women and small children out of their way as they run mindlessly towards the shelves of Barcardi Breezer.

It's a sobering thought.

I hope York District Hospital staff are on 24-hour standby because in the coming weeks they will be inundated with Clacker-related injuries. The Seventies toys - and I say "toys" guardedly because I believe they are in fact lethal weapons covertly developed in the Far East - are back in the shops under a new alias, Klik Klaks.

But don't be fooled by the fun name kids, these seemingly innocent toys are still, as they were 25 years ago, just a way for adults to inflict pain on children for a laugh.

They might seem like a great gift at first because they are colourful and make a satisfying "clack" noise when you bash them together, but just wait until you rap your knuckles with them for the tenth time in as many minutes or when your darling little bruvver attempts to garrotte you at the dining table with your own Klik Klaks.

Then and only then will you realise the terrible truth: Clackers, like Swingball and Rollerboots, were invented in the Seventies by adults who wanted to rid the world of pesky kids forever.

And before you ask, yes I did have some Clackers, a Swingball and some Rollerboots and I have the scars to prove it.

In fact, I still get Christmas cards from the staff at Jimmy's Hospital in Leeds to this day.