DANTE, you can stand down. I have found the elusive tenth circle of hell. Following limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, anger, heresy, violence, fraud and treachery, there comes Facebook Marketplace.

If you are not familiar with the concept, it's an online platform for buying and selling – a bit like eBay or Gumtree – where you can hawk unwanted items and hopefully pick up a bargain.

On first impressions, it has a vibe of Through The Keyhole meets Hoarders. Delve a little deeper and you will soon be rocked to your very core.

Think Alice in Wonderland tumbling down the rabbit hole into Stig of the Dump's living room or a discombobulated Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz exclaiming, "Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore..." as she crawls out from behind a rusty mangle clutching a vintage carriage clock.

It's Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy climbing through the wardrobe to emerge, not in the magical realm of Narnia, but rather Paddy's Market in its heyday where Mr Tumnus is selling three pairs of sport socks for £1.

I recently signed up to a smattering of local groups hoping to sell an old fireplace mantel and with half an eye to buying an antique door, maybe some nice planters for the garden.

Instead, I found a 3kg XL tub of Nutella (one for the doomsday/Brexit preppers perhaps?) browsed amethyst geodes (no, me either) and stumbled into "glamour pelmets" (because when it comes to window treatments, nothing says sophistication like swathes of silver glitter).

You can buy a newspaper dated September 6, 1997 showing a young Prince William and Prince Harry in mourning for their late mother Diana, Princess of Wales. An antique Victorian bathroom set with matching porcelain wash jug and bowl. A 2017 Harry Potter calendar.

The other week someone listed a homemade "BDSM cross" for sale on an Edinburgh Facebook group. Handcrafted from solid oak? A snip at £300. If that's your kink …

There's milk churns, old school desks, a Doctor Who-style blue police box, dolls houses, an inflatable hot tub, railway sleepers, blacksmith's anvils, a peacock table lamp, a sailing dinghy, a RAF spitfire oil gauge, a Monopoly wall clock and a toast rack in the shape of a crown.

Browsing on Facebook Marketplace feels like a curious mix of unsettling anthropological experiment and delicious voyeurism. It is spellbinding. And terrifying. Pandora's Box has been opened and I can't look away. All life is here.

Rat tales

CALL off the search. I have found my spirit animal: a chubby rat.

The rodent became stuck after it tried to squeeze through a drainage hole in a sewer cover in the German town of Bensheim.

According to reports, it was still plump with "winterspeck" – which translates as "winter bacon" and refers to extra pounds gained in the colder months – when it became firmly wedged.

The Auerbach volunteer fire brigade and Rhein Neckar animal rescue team were called in. They then together worked to raise the sewer cover and with a firm twisting action – similar to removing a tricky wine cork from a bottle – were able to safely pull the rat free.

"She had a lot of winter flab and was stuck fast at her hip," said one rescuer. If ever there was a description you could imagine would one day be applied to me, then this would be it.

In fact, it's the very reason why I have yet to venture through the loft hatch to stow the Christmas decorations. The only way I'm getting in there is if I grease my haunches with butter and take a run at it.

Still, the stricken expression on the rat's face is one that many of us can relate to. Such as putting on a pair of jeans straight out of the tumble dryer. Or that fraught moment in a shop changing room when the item you are trying on gets stuck over your head and not even Houdini could wriggle free.

It's donning a form-fitting frock/tuxedo for a swanky black tie dinner only to realise you've eaten one too many bread rolls to soak up the booze and risk now bursting out of your outfit like the Incredible Hulk if you even attempt to get up from the table.

Scrunchies unite

JASON Momoa is having a moment. Hardly surprising, I hear you say. Momoa has garnered roles as Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones and DC Comics superhero Aquaman. The actor is a behemoth of a man with a tumbling mane of hair. And he's married to the amazing Lisa Bonet.

Well, quite. Although that's not why Momoa is a god among mere mortals.

Momoa rocked up to the Oscars last weekend in a blush pink velvet tux. On his wrist was the ultimate accessory: a matching scrunchie. Be still my beating heart.

As a proud Gen-Xer the scrunchie was my equivalent of Wonder Woman's bracelets. Neon, tartan, leopard print, diamante-studded, denim, satin, lace, paisley-patterned … Let's just say, I wouldn't have left the house without one double-looped around my spiral-permed hair.

In fact, there was a point in the late 1980s/early 1990s where I possibly owned more scrunchies than Hillary Clinton, Madonna and the entire figure skating fraternity combined.

But that Momoa proudly stepped out sporting a scrunchie isn't even the best part of the story. In a video showing him getting ready for the Oscars, he explained how it came into his possession.

A hair stylist had used the scrunchie on the upcoming sci-fi drama series See, which Momoa stars in, and the actor said he "freaked out" because it was "beautiful". It transpires that Momoa then had his swish Fendi tux custom designed to match the scrunchie – not the other way around.

Which takes him straight to No. 1 as my new favourite Jason. I'm not even sorry Jason Statham, David Jason and Jason Donovan.