It was certainly my most overused phrase of 2005, though I did also exhaust "from my cold, dead hands" (everything from cans of Heineken to the hoover, since you ask). For a while, I thought 'I'm lovin' it' might be the nation's favourite phrase . . .replacing 'happy days', the 2004 runaway winner . . . but then the well-dressed latched onto the rather depressing 'race to the bottom' and that was the end of that.

Throughout, though, I was lovin' everything. Your hair, my jacket, the bus showing up on time, laying my hands on the last Obi Wan jet fighter in Ireland seconds before finding that Smyth's have a customer toilet . . . you name it, I was lovin' it.

It was most useful, though, during the Dandelions run. Theatre folk are different from you and me insofar as they emote as easily as they pretend to be someone they're not. So when actors muster, as Six once said (to their great misfortune), there's a whole lot of loving going on. I, on the other hand, come from a generation and a social class that is far more comfortable punching people in the face than uttering those three little words. I sometimes have trouble saying it to my own husband, for God's sake . . . so the idea of saying it to colleagues who I haven't even seen naked is excruciating. And yet there they all were, doing the I love you bit all over the shop . . . and I've never been to bed with any of them (though I reserve the right to end up under a pile of coats with Pauline McLynn at some bewildering point in the future). And so, as easily as reversing over a bike, I slid into lovin' mode and suddenly I was lovin' everyone. It is, if you like, love from a distance . . . without the embarrassment and the uncomfortable sweats. But it's not love, actually . . . it's just a convenient catchphrase.

I love it . . . or rather, I'm lovin' it . . . when phrases drift in and out of fashion and briefly light up the lexicon. Deirdre O'Kane is a big fan of 'cop on' and I am too. I love the idea of Eddie Hobbs telling people to 'cop on' . . . even if he's never really done so . . .and I'd love to think it will be one of the key phrases of 2006. I also adore telling people that I hope it stays fine for them, and again, I feel that's an expression deserving of an encore.

Ideally, I'd prefer if these flavour of the day phrases didn't come from America, and I'm aware that 'I'm lovin' it' fails to conform to my own slightly xenophobic guidelines. But since I spent my early adolescence comporting myself in a pair of ill-fitting Dunnes Stores' jeans while saying "coolaboola" at every turn, I reserve the right to blur my own cultural references. At least I haven't caved into that awful valley girl speak of everything being, like, basically, oh my God (though I'll confess to slipping in the occasional "so").

So (note correct usage) it could be much worse. The Small Girl's ambition in life is to be American and to this end, she informs me that she now has "two voices" . . . her own one, which she calls her outside voice, and an American one she keeps for when she's alone or for "inside her head."

Funnily enough, I seem to recall George Bush saying much the same thing. And I'm so not lovin' that.

Bringing myself to book Having become a published author last year, I was recently invited by a couple of programmes to contribute to those annual 'Best Books I've Read' lists traditionally compiled at the end of each year. I declined, explaining, to my great embarrassment, that I hadn't read any newly published books in the whole year.

Most of the time I am too busy to blow my own nose, I added to the researchers who clearly thought I was just a lazy shite on the whole book front. So this year, I'm bringing myself right up to speed. In those rare moments of quality time, I am currently reading Dessie Farrell's book (I know it was last year's, but I have some catching up to do) while simultaneously listening to the Aslan Platinum Collection.

My only regret is that I don't possess a pair of underpants in which to sit around while I'm improving my mind. But like Iarnrod Eireann, I'm getting there.

Butt out, Sue Am I the only parent who spends too much time in January consoling fretful kids that the nightmares they're having over lifesized cigarettes and pintsized gremlins aren't real? Meanwhile, the best reason in the world to take up smoking . . . the odious Sue with her whiny life . . . is back on our screens a year after she gave up the fags.

Worryingly for other would-be converts, Sue doesn't seem to have found anything else in her life to take the place of the old fags, since she's still banging on about them in every ad break. Equally alarmingly, a year of a clean whistle has done nothing for her annoying adenoidy accent. To which, on behalf of ex-smokers everywhere, I can only say, move on!

Get over it! And while I'm down there, cop on, Sue!