MAYBE the good fairies got it wrong. When they gathered round the crib of Princess Auroroa - and all the other princesses in fairy tales - they offered the usual routine list: health, wealth, happiness, beauty...

And that's where they made their mistake. Handsome is as handsome does, all right. And maybe there's something to be said for being plain.

Marianne Faithfull - singer, former lover of Mick Jagger, poster girl lusted after by thousands of adoring teenage boys and general doe-eyed icon of the sixties, is now 58 and in therapy.

One of the reasons she is in such a state is because she has lost her looks. It is particularly hard, she says, to lose your looks if you were beautiful when younger.

Well, that's a problem most of us won't have. Those of us with average looks - i.e. looking like dogs on bad days, but scrubbing up quite respectably with a bit of effort and a good light - have been saved from all this angst. Aren't we lucky?

Instead of envying the prettiest girl in the class, who was always chosen to be the Virgin Mary or Queen of the May or to present the bouquet to visiting dignitaries, we should have just heaved huge sighs of relief, happy that we would never pine when our gold ringlets lost their shine and our laughter lines became indubitably crows' feet.

It's the same with all those celebrity mums. There seems to be a craze for producing the baby then within weeks, snapping back not just to pre-baby size but a size smaller than that, about a size 6 at most, all cheekbones and elbows and hollows. Such is the pressure on those who are photographed for their looks.

So much easier if you're a standard size 14. If after the baby's born, you've relaxed into a sub-standard 14, then no one's going to notice much really, are they? One less thing to worry about for a while.

Anxious to defuse our jealousy of our prettier classmates, teachers would always tell us that Real Beauty Comes From Within. A nice thought, but we weren't fooled. They say you never miss what you haven't had. Good looks undoubtedly help you get on in the world. And never has an age been so image conscious as ours.

But maybe beauty's too hard to cope with - especially when it fades. Better, or easier, to settle instead for something like "the better side of average".

Good fairies, please note.

CONGRATULATIONS on your divorce! To Mum and Dad on their Wedding Day. Happy Christmas to Mum and her Boyfriend.

Oh yes. All human life is there on the card counter.

Never slow to miss a social trend and a way of making money, the card manufacturers are getting to grips with the changing face of British society. And why not?

But they're still way behind. Even with their new range, they are far too staid and safe and barely scratch the surface of modern life and relationships

How about To Mum and Her Toy Boy? Or, To Dad and his Boyfriend? Or, Thinking of You and your ASBO, To wish you luck on your Coming Out, Well Done on losing two stones, Good luck on moving in together, Congratulations on Finding a Dentist?

The possibilities are endless if only the card makers had the courage.

But I still treasure a card I found years ago. "Happy Christmas from my dog to your dog," it said. And after that, everything else seems sensible.

FOOD safety experts are calling for more spices imported into Britain to be tested for possible cancer causing dyes.

You mean, they're not already?

Brainy but bonkers

AT the annual May morning celebrations in Oxford, students insisted on jumping off Magdalen Bridge into the river, even though the water was only two foot deep and full of shopping trolleys and broken glass and even though the police had put up safety barriers to try to prevent them from jumping.

Even after some students broke legs and ankles and gashed themselves, more carried on flinging themselves in. Fifty were injured, ten taken to hospital, including some with spinal injuries.

Oxford students might be very clever. But they're clearly not very bright.

YES I know - yawn - we're all fed up with this election campaign, which has had the only bonus of sending us off to sleep early. And I know it's not so much a question of choosing the best man for the job, but more a case of the least bad.

BUT, whoever you support, however half-heartedly, you have to go out there and vote. Every vote does count, some more than others, depending where you live, but each one carries its little bit of weight.

And remember, if you've bothered to vote, then you've done all you can. And that means that if you don't like the result then at least you're entitled to a jolly good moan about it.