I've spent this evening in the company of a bevy of extraordinarily glamorous Pakistani ladies in North London at a one-dish party. Among all the killer heels, embroidered silk shalwaar kameezes and glittering diamante earrings was a constant volley of razor sharp wit that kept me on my toes trying to keep up with the puns and Urdu wordplay. From a hijabi with a potential future in stand-up comedy to a dryly sardonic obstetrician from Karachi and an elegant Stanmore grandmother who tried in vain to convince me her name was actually Osama, the evening's limelight was most certainly stolen by the ladies - friends of our third Osama's lovely wife.

Having said that, all the blokes were in a different room and may have had even better repartee than their wives - you'd have to ask Masood about that, but I consider it unlikely given the respective whoops of hilarity from our room and the sound of staid, polite chit-chat emanating from theirs. We're already reaping the benefits of exploring the Muslim world as a duo with access to both sides! Tomorrow we shall compare social notes.

Our third Osama, who shall be gracing our screens shortly, is a restaurateur with a peerage nomination behind him and the ambition to bring about a fusion of South Asian flavours with the Italian food he so adores.

Fill in the missing word for his cheeky, juicy little passion!

"On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor ********
When somebody sneezed"