Innovation is an eccentric condition in a columnist so, never having taken ownership of a single original thought, First Thing Monday strives endlessly to avoid the charge. To that end, we begin 2010 with the recycling of an old idea.

Call it the perfect day. 8am: Alarm fails. 9.30am: Miss important meeting concerning 'feature ideas' for January. 10am: Wake to sound of ringing phone. Salma Hayek knocks offending instrument off bedside locker, breaking into gentle serenade on the benefits of going ex-directory.

11am: Take leisurely shower while Salma cooks full Irish. 11.20am: Breakfast served by Salma wearing only Liverpool jersey. Small.

11.45am: Literary agent arrives with morning papers. Back pages full of photographs suitable for upcoming book. Fernando looks happy in all of them. Scoring for fun.

12.05pm: Spot single-column story about Stephen Ireland going on loan to Ipswich Town. Remind sports editor of opportunity to run probing, analytical piece on the quarrelsome gene in Cork sporting personalities. Miffed at earlier failure to attend meeting, he dismisses idea. Uses word 'hackneyed'. Hangs up, gruffly.

12.07pm: Shave. 12.08pm: Floss. 12.09pm: Dress. 12.10pm: Crack open bottle of champagne to celebrate extraordinary success of debut novel, 'Liam and The Premier County'. Take call from Melvyn Bragg. Advise Bragg of need to "add a couple of noughts" if he is serious about flying me over. Advice taken.

12.25pm: Imploring call arrives from Late Late Show.

12.25pm: Imploring call concludes.

12.30pm: Take helicopter to airport and Gulfstream to lunch. Fernando greets me in VIP arrivals with warm embrace, re-stressing his desire that the book "tell everything". Tape a candid chapter on his opinion of Brazilian midfielders. Courier it straight to legal people.

1.45pm: Over creme brulee, agree to be godfather to Fernando's next child. He pays for lunch and drops me back to John Lennon Airport. Take Gulfstream home. Land at Weston to facilitate quick transfer to K Club.

3.05pm: Four-ball with Ger Loughnane, 'Babs' Keating and Tom Ryan. Tape all tee-box banter with prior permission. Legal people alerted. Then terrible mishap. Neglect to apply brake on buggy, wiping out entire group of decommissioned bankers. Small one -- dapper with tan and grey hair -- looks particularly poorly. May not need big pension after all.

4.09pm: Strike one-iron 357 yards for tap-in eagle. 'Babs' faints. Ger accuses Tom of "freezing on the line" in 1994 and '96. 'Babs' comes round, claiming it's the first time he's heard Ger make any sense. Decibels soar. Suggest we invite following four-ball to play through.

4.14pm: Abort golf as Tom accidentally catches Ger in mouth with wide back-swing, removing sharp incisor. Babs' laughter draws complaints from nearby green. Official admonishment follows.

4.36pm: Retire to K Club bar. Joined for pina coladas by man introducing himself by the surname Stone. Experience sudden palpitations until reassured of no blue flu ramifications. Mister Stone speaks with an American twang and wants to buy movie rights to 'Liam and the Premier County'. Discuss figures. Take business card. Tap nose significantly.

5.10pm: Get text from Fernando informing of Lionel Messi's imminent signing for Liverpool. Says Kaka has agreed to help with the house-hunting in Southport.

6.45pm: Catch sports news on Six One. Shane Lowry six clear at Augusta. Adam Carroll on poll in Melbourne. Keith Cronin still leading Rally Ireland and Bernard Dunne flying home to heroes' welcome after Vegas demolition of Poonsawat Kratingdaenggym. Thierry Henry in move to Finn Harps. Sepp Blatter diagnosed with swine flu.

7.10pm: File 900 elegantly perfumed words on Tipperary's looming six-in-a-row bid.

7.15pm: Take call from Salma, confirming dinner reservation.

7.35pm: Limo reverses over four golf bags while exiting K Club car park. Fail to hear protesting BBC cries. Garth Crooks apoplectic.

8.11pm: Dine with close friends, Bono, The Edge and partners. Bottle of vintage champagne sent to table by black man with beard and glasses, dining alone in alcove. Reveals himself later as one Eldrick Tont Woods. Says he has a story to tell. Stifle yawn. Offer literary agent's number.

9pm: Raise a toast to Mick O'Dwyer's appointment as Irish manager for upcoming International Rules series.

9.16pm: News breaks of Manchester City's failure to pay staff's wages for third week running.

9.20pm: File beautifully sculpted 750-word parable on how in sport, as in life, people reap what they sow.

9.22pm: Sports editor calls, apologising for previously intemperate tone. Offers conciliatory pay rise. Accepted.

9.48pm: Slip out to toilet where angel alights on shoulder. Grants First Thing Monday seven wishes. We choose Brian O'Driscoll's courage, Ruby Walsh's calm, Katie Taylor's skill, Padraig Harrington's self-control, Henry Shefflin's movement, Damien Dempsey's voice. Oh, and an end to war and famine.

10.40pm: Arrive home just as Fernando texts his nightly greeting. Repeats how much he loves his life in Liverpool. 11.10pm: Undress and floss at the same time. 11.11pm: Dive under pre-heated duvet. Salma chuckles that I remind her of a young George Clooney. The champagne has made her giggly. I introduce myself as 'Dr Doug . . . 11.12pm: She turns the light out.