Oh! Jamie Cullum went to sleep one night and woke up as a mediocre version of Ben Folds, apparently.

As the day has progressed my throat has closed more and more to the point where it feels as if I have got an egg stuck in my gullet. Woo.

FLU. FLU FLU FLU FLU FLU.

Today’s Daily Mail has told me that the plural of “Criticism” is “Criticism’s”. I don’t know how to even begin criticis’ing that.

The September Issue - a doc about Vogue/Anna Wintour - is brill. Great insight into publishing & fashion - 2 things I didn’t know much about

Mediocrity, thy name is Eastwick. Charisma-lessness, thy name is the guy they got to play Darryl Van Horne. Joanna, thy name is NOT Sukie.

Vikki, getting stressed about preparing a class, just suggested that there might be a romance novel called ‘The Slutty Black Rose’.

What should I play as the first song on my new stereo, world?

I know I’m in a minority, but I have spent *more* money on music & tv shows since the advent of torrents. This ‘3 strikes’ rule? Idiocy.

Cardiff John Lewis is huge. It gave me a frying pan, some bowls and new stereo…

Nobody told me that there was a new Masters Of Reality album. Oh Jesus.

Surrogates review: It was *okay*, I suppose, nearly, sort of. Shocking script; entirely composed of stock cliché phrases and exposition.

Well, that was hideous. Here’s the dog’s reaction: http://pic.gd/71cdb

We have a winner! It’s going to be Kittens singing Christmas Carols. I’ll let you know how it goes.

A Mamet-written Diary Of Anne Frank set in the Middle East with suicide bombers? Sounds more interesting than Nazis. http://bit.ly/3DTnTU