TO tie in with the Census, the Government has just issued a new way of classifying occupations - and within an hour of it being mentioned on Radio 4, about 10,000 people had logged on to find out where they come in the great pecking order.

So much for class not mattering any more....

That was bad enough. What was worse was the reporting of the deaths of three girls in a car crash in their gap year abroad. "Public school girls killed", said one headline. All reports said that two of the girls had gone to Benenden and that was Princess Anne's old school, which was probably fair enough. But there were pictures of the school, details of fees, and one even went on to say that the aunt of one of the dead girls had been in the same class as Princess Anne.

Well gosh. Does that make her death more dreadful than if she'd been to a bog standard comprehensive and her aunty had been in the same class as the lady from the chip shop?

Of course not. Any right-thinking person would care about the death of bright young girls, whatever their class or background. But our peculiar preoccupation with class made it seem so. As far as a broadsheet newspapers were concerned, it was the most important aspect of the girls' death.

But we are still suckers for class. A posh voice will get you better service, get your complaint dealt with more quickly. Sad, but true. The first rule of any successful conman is to appear rich and posh - remember those two Australian women who turned up at all the big society events - because, much as we hate to admit it, everyone still loves a lord.

The new classifications have done away with the John Cleese/Ronnie Barker/Ronnie Corbett manifestations of upper/middle and working class. Instead, there are eight orders - from doctors and lawyers at number one, through landscape gardeners at five, telephone operators at six. To the unemployed at eight. There being no classification for Welsh pPeasant, I find I am at number two - along with police sergeants and social workers.

At least, these days we can all be upwardly mobile. John Prescott upset his dad when he said he was middle class now. But with a degree, two houses and, of course, two Jags, how could he possibly not be? But he still gets patronised by people who've made a better job of hiding their origins.

Then there's Martine McCutcheon...

The former EastEnders star has been a huge success in a new production of My Fair Lady. But again, a number of critics are surprised by her success. A working-class Cockney is playing the part of a working-class Cockney. My dear! But it's hardly revolutionary, when you come to think about it.

Ah yes, but... At the end of the play, of course, Eliza Doolittle is magically transformed into a lady. She can cope elegantly with any situation. Her vowels, like her clothes, are smooth, silky and refined.

"By George she's got it!" boomed the headlines, as writers were amazed that this working-class girl could have such class.

Funny that. No one was surprised when the very posh Audrey Hepburn managed to be a convincing flower girl.

It's called acting. And, amazingly, even working class girls can do it.

What's more, it makes her Class 2 - exactly the same as all those astonished journalists.

HOME is where the hurt is. New Government figures show that more people die of accidents in the home than on the roads. More than 1.2 million people a year go to hospital after a fall. There are 99,000 DIY accidents, 40,000 involving step ladders.

But what about chutney jars and football mugs? Three years ago, I broke my big toe when I dropped a jar of Baxters Spicy Fruit Chutney - delicious but amazingly heavy. This week I bashed the same toe when I dropped a large Barcelona Football Club mug on it.

I look forward to both items appearing in next year's statistics.

STILL in soapland, three cheers for The Archers. They've got foot-and-mouth in Ambridge too. Since the disease hit the real world, the radio team have ditched their carefully prepared and recorded programmes, re-written and recorded them with F & M dominating the story lines.

It's a fine achievement and a good reminder that The Archers really is set in the countryside - and not in some politically correct cosmopolitan suburb.

THE Prime Minister, in an interview at the weekend, made no secret of the fact that he wished he was earning serious money - not the £107,000 prime ministers get, he means the millions that many of his old school and college friends are earning. He might feel less jealous if he had poorer friends, but he has said that he is already thinking ahead to what he will do after being Premier. No doubt it will involve lots of money making.

Strange, how things change. Remember when running the country was the peak of a politician's career?

Now, it's just a stepping stone, an entry on the CV on the way to something much more lucrative.

BILLY Connolly danced naked around Piccadilly Circus when the Comic Relief appeal raised its first million pounds. Not a pretty sight.

Next year, how about paying for him NOT to do it?