EVERY NOW and then, usually while having a few weekend drinks, the good woman and I have a conversation about which celebrities we would like to invite around for dinner. In recent years, asking a few friends over for something nice to nibble on and something even nicer to wash it down has regained its popularity. Social occasions that were particularly en vogue prior to a monstrous Celtic pussycat furballing too much disposable income into our clammy palms. If staying in is the new going out, then eating in is the latest equivalent of 25 people going Dutch down the Thai, or Japanese Garden, come Friday night.

The other evening, while watching a British teenager elbowing her pal in the face on the X Factor, we took great enjoyment from Simon Cowell's facial expressions and accurate analysis of the sometimes deluded, sometimes brilliant, auditionees. And we thought how interesting he would be to listen to, if he came round to dine. Which started me thinking about who we would include on our ultimate fantasy dinner guest list – with posthumous appearances also being allowed.

Simon Cowell: Who better to give us an insight into the music industry and the primadonnas that are its flesh and blood. Elton to Whitney to Cheryl – I can't imagine it would take too much coaxing to get one of the most powerful men on TV to spill the beans on who gets under his skin. Though I would insist he wears a black t-shirt and his trousers belted so highly, that they rest just slightly beneath his chin. I might also get him to listen to the young lad's version of Old McDonald, and see if he thinks he's ready to start earning a crust.

Bill Clinton: The cigar-smoking, saxophone-blowing, JFK of our day. With plenty of tales to tell from his years in the White House, this silver-haired charm bucket would have political anecdotes to appeal to the higher-browed attendees. Though I'd imagine getting a straight answer from him might be little difficult. ' Indeed I did wash my hands before I came to over here tonight – eh, indeed I did not wash my hands before I came over here tonight.'

Maggie Jones: Better known as Blanche from Coronation Street, one of the wittiest of all soap characters passed away in 2009. Her caustic putdowns are a two-fingered salute to etiquette and she gains herself an invite – if only to kick start some banter. One of her gleaming pearls uttered on Corrie was, 'She loves a drama, that Gail, loves a drama. Never happy unless she's got someone's hands round her throat.'

Eric Cantona: The world of football has never replaced him. A man you could easily describe as skilful, majestic and bonkers all at once. He can dish out his take on Sir Alex, Roy and Becks, while those of us with sporting appetites sit back and lap it all up. We could have Matthew Simmons on standby – the Selhurst Park supporter who left one evening with stud marks in his chest – just in case things needed livening up. Marilyn Monroe: Now there's a woman with plenty of cats to release from bags. All the while adding a touch of panache from a bygone era. If the dinner happened to be held on Bill's birthday, she could always serenade him with a little ditty that she has famously recited before. Or even if it wasn't his birthday, I'm sure the former president wouldn't mind. Tommy Tiernan: I know he's controversial and there are probably people out there spitting in their coffees at the mention of his name, but personally I find there's no-one funnier throughout the land. Does a great African accent.

Jean Byrne: The RTÉ weathergirl comes along for sartorial purposes, to see what kind of dresses she squeezes into when not discussing incoming winds from the north by north-west.

Gerry Ryan: We always said that the 2FM motormouth would be an ideal person to go drinking with. With an array of opinions to match his pretty large ego, you needn't worry about any lull descending on the conversation.

I think himself and Blanche would click most. Tracy Piggott: A representative from the world of racing who has her finger on the pulse of all things equine in this country. Won't be allowed to go home until she passes on the winner of next year's Grand National however. Zumo Bishop: Every good party needs security and in return for a good feed, this tracksuit-bearing Fair City bad boy can do the honours. I'd also like to ask him if he sometimes delivers his lines in Chinese. Even when we press rewind on the Sky Box we struggle to decipher exactly what he's trying to say. I'd imagine we'd put him on a perch between Marilyn and Tracey. Then it's up to Eric to stop him dealing.

- SHEA TOMKINS