OBVIOUSLY terror threats are no laughing matter. Obviously.

But Mohammad Ali’s to do list has been making me chuckle. Ali was convicted at the Old Bailey this week of attempting to possess a chemical weapon. He’d bought ricin on the Dark Net but sadly for Ali, the salesman was an undercover FBI agent.

Police who searched his computer found a well-ordered To Do list:

Paid ricin guy

Get pet to murder

It’s not clear whether Ali planned to murder the pet or try to train a chinchilla, say, to carry out the poisoning plot on his behalf but I like how he approached the planning stages of his scheme in such a prosaic, ordered manner.

Get pet to murder

Pick up milk

I would never manage my life without lists. There is nothing more relaxing and comforting than corralling all your chores onto one fresh, literally clean sheet and making them stand to attention in a neat line. Lists are the false promise of serenity among chaos.

Much has been made of the list’s threat to quality journalism with the ubiquity of the listicle. You will have read the sort of thing: 12 Pictures of Toddlers that will Haunt Your Dreams. 29 Paving Stones You’d Never Dare to Walk On. 7 Eyeball Modifications That Will Make You Cringe. 34 Listicles to Guarantee You’ll Never Need to Read Another Listicle Again.

I adore listicles. My attention span died two years, nine months and two weeks ago when I joined Twitter. List form means bite size and bite size is about all my depleted brain can handle.

The brain of someone at Glamour magazine in the US is also clearly depleted. Glamour fell foul of a listicle this week – its 13 Little Things That Can Make a Man Fall Hard for You. These included, “Making a big deal out of his favourite meal. Does he like hot dogs cut up into his boxed mac-and-cheese? Serve it on a fancy tray in bed to really see him smile,” and “Stocking the fridge with his favourite drinks. Bonus points: Bring him back to his fraternity days by handing him a cold one as he steps out of the shower.”

Top tip: keep your lists relevant to the present day. 1950s housewifely advice has no place in society, never mind in glorious list form.

Lists take infinity and try to put it in some sort of order, giving the promise of completion while demonstrating that completion will never be possible. A list, by its very nature, will never end - there’s always another eyeball to be modified - but part of the pleasure is the thrill of the chase.