THIS is International Ideas Week. Any tips on achieving universal peace will be welcomed by the UN Secretary General.

Any tips on how to regain lost popularity will be welcomed by Prime Minister David Cameron.

Any tips for the 2.30 at Kempton can be emailed to me at the address above.

Designating one particular week of the year for ideas, seems to suggest that no one has any during the other 51 weeks of the year.

“We’re a month away from bankruptcy and need a visionary concept to turn the company around with short term financial gains leading to long term stability.”

“Sorry. It’s October. You’ll have to wait until May next year for Ideas Week.”

Mind you, there have been plenty of ideas to forget in the past.

Back in the 1950s, Americans – and some Brits – were investing in nuclear fall-out shelters in case the Third World War actually happened.

One I would have avoided on principle was the Economy Bomb Shelter. Economy?

How does that work? Hide in a cardboard box, put your fingers in your ears and sing la-la-la-la-la?

There have been daft ideas forever, such as the saluting device from 1896 that automatically tipped a man’s hat upon encountering a lady. Or the fire escape device from 1909 – it was a set of wings and, possibly, a prayer. Or how about the Swiss Army Shovel?

Then there was the chap in Torquay in 1960 who had the idea of hypnotising learner drivers to pass their test. I’ve come across a few drivers like that.

Some silly ideas have been successful. Like the chap in California who started selling pet rocks at $4 apiece in 1975, see inset.

“The pet you don’t have to feed, look after or take for a walk.” Within six months he was a millionaire.

Some have been beneficial to mankind. Like the Better Marriage Blanket in America which was designed to absorb the odours of male flatulence.

A Japanese textile company took the idea further and came up with deodorant underpants that quickly and efficiently eliminate strong smells. They make no promises, however, about sound suppression. The company’s range includes socks that prevent feet from smelling and vests that mask BO. Those of a certain inclination need never wash again.

British company My Shreddies make flatulence underwear for both men and women. A pair of boxers for blokes are £34 which could be a small price to pay to curtail the out of body experience some chaps impose upon innocent bystanders.

A pair of ladies briefs are £22: “A stylish and contemporary garment popular with our younger clients and delivers great flatulence filtration.”

But ladies don’t. Do they?