Well, that’s it – It’s official. Apparently I’ve been chosen. I am in fact the chosen one.

I have no idea what I’ve been chosen for, or what to do, but there it was in black and white for the world to see.

Well, not exactly the world, in fact not even a small part of the world… okay, just me, really.

But it must be true because not just once, oh no, several times now an email has popped up on my laptop stating that I have been chosen.

I am the chosen one. ‘Chrissy, you have been chosen!’ So it must be true.

My emails never fail to amuse me: one informed me that I have a guardian angel. Apparently, this guardian angel will watch over me and keep me safe in this ever-dangerous world in which we live in, and for a small charge I can ‘activate’ this angel.

Obviously, guardian angels come at a price. And then there’s the horse racing tips. Well surely if their tips were so good, wouldn’t they keep them to themselves?

And over the last few months I’ve been given the chance to play casino with £10 that they will give me to start, which I thought was very generous of them since they don’t actually know who I am.

I’ve won a matching set of pig and cow salt and pepper pots, but I am not sure I really want them. Free meals for kids… shame I haven’t got any kids; I suppose I could try and borrow some.

I was even gifted a free plant pot if I spent £30 on plants first. I don’t know how they work out it’s free – by my reckoning the plant pot has cost me £30.

I was offered a saving on extra virgin organic coconut oil, two fuchsia trees and, wait for it, seven dwarves. Seven dwarves! Do they think I am Snow White? What am I supposed to do with seven dwarves? Do they eat a lot? And what about sleeping arrangements? I have nowhere to put them up.

In between all these pop-ups I can have life cover for as little as 50p a day. How could I resist? Although I won’t be needing life cover because I have a guardian angel.

And then there’s the endless sign-ups to match.com. Do I come over as the sort of woman who has the time or energy to start looking for another man? I’m already stressed out about where I’m going to put seven dwarves.

Then there’s Thomas Sanders, who claims he can make a difference to my home. Good. It’s just a shame he isn’t a builder, then he could build me an extension to put all the men I’ll meet on match.com and the seven dwarves.

I didn’t have the heart to inform the ‘plan your funeral, and have peace of mind today’ company that when I cough up I’ll have my guardian angel. And then there’s the Alzheimer’s research company that want to know if I’m willing to donate monthly.

Donate? I can’t even remember why I came onto the laptop in the first place.

There are adverts for facelifts and eye tucks; honestly it would be quicker and cheaper to go down to Deacons Superdec and buy a packet of Polyfilla.

And, of course, property rescuers would like to buy my home, even though it’s not for sale, so you can imagine when one ad popped up for ‘feeling spontaneous… do something you’ve never tried before’, I found myself shouting at the laptop. Yes, I’ll stick my head in the freezer then run naked around the street.

Finally: ‘if you’ve been in an accident that wasn’t your fault’. Good grief. I wont need any of this because yes, you’ve got it. I have my guardian angel.

Well, I will have if I pay her.