... not only that, but I'm just in bad dumps today. Don't know why, the world isn't particularly worse than it was yesterday. Richard Herring thinks it might be to do with magpies, though given the crowds of 16-odd magpies which seem to haunt my steps, not to mention the sordid threesome that hang out in our chimney pots, I'm not sure where that leaves me. Confused, probably. Speaking of which, he's playing the Bullingdon Comedy club tomorrow. I know, I know. Nobody cares but me.

*It's up again now. And, anyway, it's flattering, kinda. But I just wish sometimes people would say that they liked things to me, rather than my having to infer it from echoes and effects. Edit: Actually it was just a power failure. Go me. Go, me.