Jamie Diffley looks at life's trials and tribulations IT LANDED with a thud that shook the very foundations of the One Bedroomed Flat.

I had managed to ignore it for more than 18 months but there was no escape this time. There it lay, menacing, almost taunting.

My electricity bill had finally arrived. All £867.25 of it. This is not a mis-print.

Since moving into Chez Diffley in November, 1999, I had somehow avoided the clutches of Norweb although I must emphasise it was not something I had set out to do. I may be many things but a bill dodger I am not.

I informed those that need to know of my new residence at the time -- phone company, water, council, gas AND electricity -- filled in the forms, dotted the Is, crossed the Ts, sat back and relaxed. And I got letters back from them all -- phone company, water, council, gas AND electricity -- acknowledging my existence.

I even got myself a TV licence such is my dedication to be on the right side of the law. In truth the Long Suffering Marjorie made me buy the latter, remaining unconvinced that my "I don't watch BBC" or "telly, what telly?" excuses would not cut the mustard when the detector man came-a-knocking (personally, I think was on to a winner).

The first utility bills arrived not long after but a tab for the electricity was conspicuous by its absence. "Oh well," I thought "It will come next time." It never did.

Occasionally, when a different bill arrived and pricked my conscience, I would vow to do something about it. Contact the company, right this wrong and start paying for the electricity as soon as possible. But something always came up and the plan was shelved. After nearly two years of false promises, good-old Norweb Energy have saved me the bother of a phone call and finally contacted me. And landed me with the bill. All £867.25 of it.

I always knew it was going to be high but the shock that surged through me when I cast my eye over the figure was immeasurable. How can I possibly have spent nearly £900 in a tiny flat?

I don't exactly keep a rigid eye on how our electricity is used but in the same token I am far from frivolous -- a legacy of 23 years living at a home filled with cries of "are you blind" when I dared to put the living-room light on, even though the natural light was quickly retreating.

I should thank my parents however for allowing me to develop fantastically sharp night-vision (which gave me a great advantage when playing Murder in the Dark.)

I read somewhere recently that the average annual bill for a four-bedroom house, with each bedroom occupied by at least one, is around £400 -- dramatically less than mine.

I have the usual appliances which any self-respecting 27-year-old has, TV, video, stereo, PlayStation 2 (top) but to run up the bill I am faced with is surely impossible.

To do so I would have had to play FIFA 2001 for 24 hours, while Elvis boomed in the background competing for attention by a continuous video loop of the first series of Friends.

All the while the LSM would have been chained to the kitchen washing every single item of clothing of the whole street, drying the socks in the microwave and slaving over the electric oven/hob while each light in the house blazed like an unforgiving sun.

I don't like to think about it too much -- doing so makes me ill and brings me out in a rash -- but it is an awful lot of money to part with. Around 347 pints of Guinness in fact.

I bet even the Barnes family from Fence, famed throughout East Lancashire -- and beyond -- for their annual Christmas lights spectacular, would be hard-pushed to beat my bill.

Naturally I aim to dispute the offending bill and at this stage have steadfastly refused to pay a penny.

So by the time next week's exciting instalment of Just Jamie needs writing, I might be doing it by candle light.