Most of the time, I have a high opinion of human nature. But when it comes to originality, sometimes I get a bit down.

The reason I'm on the subject is that I was watching the Crufts show on TV last night. Now, I'm genuinely phobic of dogs; last month, a neighbour's pet scampered across the street to investigate me and I actually screamed. However, when they're in the little glass box that sits in the corner of my living room, and there's no chance at all that they could get me, then I actually find them quite interesting to watch. So I settled down to follow the show. My usual remark on the species ('fucking mutt, fucking mutt, honey please don't let it kill me') were replaced with comments like 'Go Italian greyhound!', 'Look, a dog dancing, how nice!' and, occasionally, 'Who on earth wants a ball of fuzz like that?'

The winner of the show, and congratulations to all concerned as long as they don't let it bite anyone, was a dog called Fabulous Willy. Yes, that was the dog's name. The handler appeared on the show, patting the pooch and saying happily, 'They called him Fabulous Willy. And they knew what they were doing.' Because the dog was fabulous, you gather, rather than for any other reason. The judges evidently agreed about the dog's quality, which is why I'm bringing up the whole subject - I suspect that Willy's owners are too happy to care what I say right now - but when he said 'They knew what there were doing,' my instant response was, 'Did they?'

It entertained my inner four-year-old for a moment. Then I realised that I was probably speaking in unison with about ten thousand people across the nation. Sorry, Willy.

Because if you present people with a stimulus, they respond. And often, they respond very similarly. This was a fact that I discovered when working in a toyshop. We had a variety of things, but one of the steady sellers was some 'decision dice' for children. Each facet had a different action on it: Eat, Sleep, TV, Read, Tidy Bedroom and Do Homework. They cost a pound each, so they made a good impulse purchase, for which reason we kept a box of them on the counter. We sold some every day. This was good - the darn things were paying my wages - but oh, did I start to hate them after a while. Because every time customers came in with children, they had to discuss them. This is what they said:

Adult: 'Look, Bobby, you roll these dice and they tell you what to do.' (Reads off the list of options.) 'I think I'm going to weight them so they always fall on Tidy Bedroom/Do Homework!
Bobby (grinning): 'No, they should fall on TV!
(Hilarity ensues.)

Or at least, it ensued on one side of the counter. I, on the other side, was suffering from a form of water torture, because every single bloody person made the same bloody joke. Imagine listening to the same joke half a dozen times a day, every working day, and having to pretend to like it, knowing that everyone who makes it thinks they're being witty. It wasn't just that a joke gets dull after a while. It was that everyone produced this quip with the air of being smart and original. You know how the average person considers themself above-average? It was that with humour. The customers, who I couldn't contradict - even if it hadn't invited firing, it would have been pointlessly unpleasant, because they were all nice people - reckoned they were being inventive. I, from experience, knew they weren't. It created a great echoing gulf between their version of reality and mine, which was enough, on busy days, to make me feel like I was the only sane person in the world.

But of course, I'm not. I say equally predictable things all the time. The trouble is, because I tend to move around rather than stand at the same spot listening to everyone's comments, I don't know when I'm saying them. My latest remark could be a flurry of originality, or it could be so unoriginal that rust will form around my lips, sealing them deservedly shut, if I ever say it again. I don't know. I can't tell. For all I know, there are a thousand people typing variants on this very article even as I speak.

I'm scared.