My MySpazz page has just hit 1000 hits. It speaks volumes about my day that this is the most exciting thing to happen for at least seven hours.

I totally want this even though I might cry. Replacing the glass jars? How bloody dare they! Surely the problem with squeezy tubes is that you'll get far too much and it'll be too bitter. It's a fine balanace. Fine.

It really doesn't matter if you never listen to COlin and Edith on Radio 1. All you need to do is watch this.

I've switched on the comments section again. This could backfire horribly, namely with people not actually saying anything, just disappearing into the netherworlds of cyberspace again. I really need to stop setting up new blogs because they're spreading everywhere now with different purposes: the MySpace, where I post new music stuff, the Catch27, for ranting, and this one, for links and out of affection for the fact that the first LT was made in horribly bad coding when I was 18.

Anyway - the entire point of this post is to express absolute disbelief at the fact that Sue Lawley is to leave Desert Island Discs. As show excitement goes, it's probably lurking somewhere below Loose Ends and above Counterpoint, as regardless of who's on it, Lawley will command the programme in that calm, unflappable manner that manages to somehow sap the week's castaway of any vim they may have. Or maybe that's jsut an automatic response to being confronted with the Lawley, who knows.

Fairly enough, she says that after 18 years she quite fancies doing something else - can you imagine spending 18 years doing the same thing? I can't imagine 18 months. My last job was three months, and this is stretching to seven, so I'm hardly au fait with lengthy stints doing one thing. She did a good job, she doesn't want to do it anymore. Fair enough - Liv Tyler's opening a spa for god's sake.

Oooh, spa run by Sue Lawley. I bet that'd get a niche market - like Charlotte Green phone lines...

Fred Durst is making a film. My jaw is so heavily embedded in the ground I can hardly speak. "I want to make timeless movies"? As someone who had the painful misfortune of reviewing the 'Bizkit's Chocolate Starfish and the Hotdog Flavoured Water LP, I am quite willing to state on record that the only way Fred Durst could produce anything timeless is if you hid his metronome. Direction projects for the man have been announced on and off for the past five years (mostly by Durst himself) but seeing as this one's got an IMDB entry and everything, it stands a reasonable chance of actually being made. May God help us all.

The Shining single-handedly re-enacted by one overly keen boy. Awesome.

I've got a mini exam this afternoon which is annoyingly quite important to my not falling off the streets and into the gutter. If the streets are in fact the pavement. Anyway. My boss has cheered me up immensely with the encouraging words, "If you fail, you're retarded." It bought a tear to my eye, bless him.

My ex's MySpace account has had his profile, friends and songs wiped and replaced with something along the lines of "This song is gay". As if that didn't suck enough, I only looked at it after getting an email from said ex asking in very polite tones whether I'd deleted it. I know it's entirely shit to put personal things on blogs, but this was so rubbish I just don't care.

I'm clearly getting lame in my old age. I just downloaded Rent (why! That ending for god's sake!) and have watched the One Song Glory sequence about four times feeling like I'm about to burst into tears. Since my other viewing for the day has consisted of Narnia and Mr and Mrs Smith, you might figure a dose of the bad AIDS would up the ante on reality stakes, but no.

It's nothing to do with the ridiculously grainy picture or the hamminess of the bridges and all about the spare, cold guitar and the real sadness of the flashbacks posted over the top. Yes, it's cheesier than the fauxmesan omelette I just ate for supper, but it perfectly captures the reason why the character hides away from everything (his nasty ex-girlfriend junkified him AND gave him the bad AIDS - beats the crap out of holding onto your books now, doesn't it?) and more importantly it reminds you why musicals are so popular.

Whether you go to them to have a good laugh or a really crap attempt at getting up to speed with 19th century France, the good ones get inside your head and irritate the hell out of you. Or mean that you and your housemates stand around and bawl out Phantom when the gin has really taken hold. No judging y'hear?

In times of crisis, it's good to know that there are people who understand the way you feel. Which is why I introduced Nice PR #1 to My Broken Leg, a support network for people who've fractured, injured or just plain broken parts of their walking sticks. "Bloody hell. I feel as if I've discovered a new family," said Nice PR #1. Indeed.

And here's today's Reader Tip: "Access to lower cabinets in the kitchen and bathroom can be a real problem for a chair bound patient. Consider temporarily removing some cabinet doors for ease of access. They can be quickly replaced when the crisis is over." My god, that's actually genius. Although seeing as bathrooms tend to be upstairs, how the hell is a chair-bonud patient going to get to their lower cabinets in the first place?

Reasons why Joss Whedon + X-Men = best thing ever #51

The 'cat: "I’m totally calm and I’m totally cool. My calm is only exceeded by my cool. Which is total."

Damn it, I worked really hard to get my Blue Peter badges. Victoria Someone and I made lots of badges, probably saying something like "Don't run over hedgehogs" and were rewarded with a green conservation badge which was beyond exciting. I had a white one too, which you got just for writing in a letter, although I was such a horribly show-off child I probably wrote them a lovely story to go with it.

Anyway, a few years ago my mother gave my badges away to the ungrateful brats next door. Admittedly the brats aren't remotely brattish, they're quite disappointingly nice actually, but they were my badges and I felt horribly cheated that they could waltz into places for free without making so much as a fortune teller to deserve it.

Now it seems there's a scheme against honest badge-earners everywhere which Blue Peter are going to stop, probably by inscribing the name of each kid on the back of it. It's all eBay's fault dammit.

"Edinburgh Zoo has said it is stopping free entry for children in the wake of the badges being sold on the internet.

A spokeswoman said they became suspicious of an increase in badge-holding visitors, including one family where every child had one."

Bastards. Go and make one of your own, earlier.

What movies should the thinking Christian watch?

Star Trek - The Next Generation, Episode 125: The Inner Light - "How does one person change a society, and in the end how has that society changed that person? A must see for anyone interested in missions."

The entry on Cuckoo's Nest is particularly enlightening.

I think I'm meant to be going up to Newcastle this weekend but am not sure as it's my friend Drama Queen who is infamously unreliable. Also, she's a great friend of mine, but we work much better with a buffer between us and we've been lunching à deux too much recently so we rub each other up into a wrong way frenzy. I love her though, even if she does owe me a lunch and some theatre trips.

On the bright side of busy-ness, I've managed to cram in some fantastic books recently. The Autistic Muso lent me a couple (including a great one about, er, hermaphrodites, by the author of the Virgin Suicides, and another weird Japanese one called Kafka By The Shore which makes me feel a bit like I did when I read The Books of Magic for the first time.

I'm also rediscovering all my old favourite - my Dylan Thomas collection, John Donne, She, some proper goodies. They're books that are so personal to me - not through having any connection to anyone, nobody gave them to me, I found them - and they always remind me to keep my head when I feel like I'm being pulled in different and not necessarily pleasant directions by the way that people act.

Here's my favourite Dylan poem as a cultural segue to lunchtime:

Once it was the colour of saying
Soaked my table the uglier side of a hill
With a capsized field where a school sat still
And a black and white patch of girls grew playing;
The gentle seaslides of saying I must undo
That all the charmingly drowned arise to cockcrow and kill.
When I whistled with mitching boys through a reservoir park
Where at night we stoned the cold and cuckoo
Lovers in the dirt of their leafy beds,
The shade of their trees was a word of many shades
And a lamp of lightning for the poor in the dark;
Now my saying shall be my undoing,
And every stone I wind off like a reel.

I have been asked to join this on MySpace. I don't know whether to feel flattered or slightly threatened.

Find a picture of yourself, upload it here. At least this time I'm more interesting, the last time I was some kind of alien. And not the Seven By Nine kind either.

Johnny Vegas - mad and irritating, or Alan Bennett?

Best Actor, Johnny Depp. Fucking Johnny Vegas
(Muted applause) Hiya, sorry for that I was in the wrong seat. Tring to blag work as I do. I brought two friends I’ve known for nine years and the second I got in here I dropped ‘em. Fucking sat with Paddy McGuiness going “Y’know, I don’t like saying this but you are great. If you ever want to do Dead Man Shoes 2 he could come back and be fat and a bit cleverer and you could come back from the dead as well and I don’t know, it could work for me. I always come here with the best intentions knowing that none of the awards are for me. I always end up talking for 20 mintues, desperately trying to balg work off you.

I am a stand-up who never quite comes across as a stand-up. I am an enigma. To some of you I am a stand-up who does a bit of acting. To others, I’m a wanker. In the past years we’ve had really shit hosts and it’s been good to get up here because you’ve become the comic element, this year it’s been quite funny, so now I’m knackered. And when you’re sitting at a strange table and you’re tackling the one bottle of red wine because no-one is drinking a fresh bottle, the tension builds. But I fucking drank most of it, and I do apologise to you table 11. I should have been at Table 8, but it’s gone and there’s no good bitching and I’m going to be here for a while so if you want to put your hand up – yeah, I was on a winner’s table with somebody who couldn’t be fucking arsed to turn up.

Ladies and gentlemen, in America it’s taken for granted that most stand-ups will get a series on TV, become successful and then end up working for Disney making really crap films. In this country it’s much harder. (“Oh yeah” – Bill Bailey). You often get cast out of your depth, make a couple of shit films, the Film Council get bollocked for it, what was seen as a bit of brave casting often ends up as disaster, people lose jobs and yet your career goes on and you want to feel guilty, but inside I fucking envy your lifestyle.

I wanna join you. I’m not funny anymore, I prove it by turning up to events like this. I came to Star Wars Episode 1, I even joined the line-up, what did you do – you walked off on me. I paid for the fucking (chur Star Wars rant???) I was a teenage fan. I had every bastard toy going. I funded you Rick, I got you a job. And what do you do? Did you cast one fat Jedi, no, you gave a woman huge ears. Fat jedis! Have you seen ‘em? It’s all in the wrist. If ever a man has had to develop his wrist, it’s me. You’re all gathered here, the glitterati, but none of you are bothered because the people you hope were here haven’t turned up, hence me. Yes and a cig ash now on the applause (state?) look at that. He’s using it as an ashtray, he’s just not bothered, he’s had a bit too much red wine, wanting to boost his confidence, show that he’s an affable bloke.

I fucking hate you lot. You’re everything that I want to be and can never be, I canbuy me mam a new kitchen but I can’t buy her a new house thanks to you. (Laughter) The winner of tonight I obviously know, but the noly way I’ve got of gaining your attention is by knowing and not telling you (laughter). Later today I did nearly have a fight with a homeless bloke and I’m proud of it. He asked for some money, I gave him a quid, it’s a lot where I come from, he went “Is that it?”, and I fucking let fly. And do you know how hard it is fighting a homeless person when you’re putting your dry cleaning to one side? ‘I think I’ll put a tie on that’ll mean I mean business’. Unless they’re going to make a Laurel and Hardy film I am fucked. (laughter) Ladies and gentlemen, it is still a pleasure to be here and whil a bit of your mind goes ‘Just give the award’ another bit goes ‘No, keep chipping away at it, win ‘em round!’

Even the ones at the back who feel disgruntled because they know they’re only here because they’ve got a friend nominated. You, as a collection of people, one part of my mind wants to call you a bunch of bastards and the other bit desperately wants to be your friends. So whilst I’m trying to read words put together in capital letters, there’s a fucking tormented fight that would put Jedis to shame going on in my head. Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this award, the one man we obviously know isn’t here, so hence he’s won it – like you didn’t look round the room when you were walking in – is somebody who in the press has been represented as my friend and I’m happy to let that myth continue.

I worked with him three years ago and he’s never called me back once. I did, I took my family on holiday and I asked him if I could borrow his speedboat. Not even a text. Just fuck all. And I’ve seen his acceptance speech – it’s wank. I’ve got to warn you now, he’s trying to look awkward, like ‘Oh fucking compliments embarrass me.’ They don’t wi’me! If you gave me a job and I won summat, I would be fuckin’ really good at it. I’ve just never won owt. I’ve got to a point in my life where I’m good at accepting awards on other people’s behalfs! Can you smell the neediness? (shouts) I need an award, and I ain’t got one! ‘I can’t be here tonight ‘cause I;m being a pirate’. Me fucking uncle tried that and they stopped his dole for six weeks. And he was mentally unwell.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven’t already guessed, the winner of this award couldn’t be arsed but he’s here in fuckin’ video tape form anyway and a bit of it’s a bit freaky, I think he’s trying to be a bit quirky, but he’s obviously gone beyond that point of fuckin’ knowing who his public is, and only I can say that because I’m his friend, if you believe what you read in The Sun. He came to my home town, apparently. Ladies and gentlemen, the wniner is somboyd I’ve had the pleasure of working with., I’ve approached him once or twice, I’ve been ushered away by his security, I even once set fire to his caravan, just to fuckin’ force him into the light. I should stick to empty factories. Ladies and gentlemen – well, no-one gets hurt d’they? I ddin’t know his brother was having a shit.

C’mon, fucking liven up, you know you want to. If there’s someone you don’t like who’s sat in front o’yer, just lean your seat forward and burn your cig on their jacket. They don’t know, they blame it on a club later on, but you’ll go home with a sense of justice. I want everyone waking up tomorrow, picking up their jackets and seeing daylight through it – ‘Which fucker did that?’ These are awards, c’mooon. Why do you people go so mad? Because none of the people who’ve won are even here! You know you haven’t won, get bitter, it’s alright, shout out ‘Twat’.

Right, the winner is – they did, they booked me, knowing I’d do this! They do it! No, don’t look at me awkward, you don’t have to be awkward for me! I know where I am, I know where my career is, Channel 4 welcomed me with open arms, but no, I tried to embrace film and it hugged me like an auntie with a penis. Ladies and gentlemen, the winner tonight is – and this film is shit – he’d admit it himself. He’s obviously trying to look like he’s one o’you so he’s hanging out with gypsies. It’s Mr Johnny Depp.

Best Actor: Johnny Depp
Old man in a chair, holding dog: Good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name is Johnny Depp, cuz a few of you don’t know me. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the Embassy people for this beautiful Empire award. We’ll do it later and do it correctly. And uh, we’ll look for many more…

Johnny Depp: Uh-huh, that’s good, you’re fine, go on, get out of here. (Man hands over dog, Depp sits down, complete with pirate ‘tache and bandana) Oh boy. Yeah hi, just wanted to thank you for this award. Yeah. Honoured, certainly, touched, be touched again very soon and er, yeah. I think it’s absolutely mad that you gave it to me but anyway, I appreciate it. I like a hand-out so cheers, thanks very much.

Johnny Vegas: You didn’t believe me did you? You thought I was just being bitter. That was genuinely rubbish wan’it? From a man who can create such characters as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, what the fuck was that? And the handing over of the dog, I watched that 42 times going ‘There’s a hidden message’ no! It’s just someone handing a dog to someone on a fucking plastic chair and going ‘Thank you’. He’s not in touch anymore, but when I see him, I swear to god I’m gonna punch him. And just go, ‘Don’t you ever put me in that kind of awkward situation again. If Tony Curtis is out there, it went a bit better a few years ago, and Dustin Hoffman got me up and it really fucking helped my career. I know it’s about your lifetime achievement, but I really would like being fucking involved with photographs wi’yer at some point. Or just in your speech, anything you…I know, I have to go.

Bill Bailey: Johnny, your parole officer’s here.

JV: Why d’you book me when you know this is going to happen? It’s not about low budget, I just like films, it’s different, you get your tea made for you and shit like that. Cars take you to work, I’m no good on trains, I make people nervous. Fuck ‘em Bill. (Exit, vast, relieved applause).

BB: Fuck you! He needs work!

JV: (emotionally) You gave me the taste for croissants.

In a day filled with joys including V cookies, loads of human Vs with scary V masks, a big red V room, Stephen Fry and meeting Natalie Portman (very clever, good hair), the best sentence ever has just made it even better.

"A large spherical object appeared in my peripheral vision which on closer inspection proved to be one of Pamela Anderson's breasts."

God bless the BBC.

They're spreading like the plague! Michael Mann's phone waiting music is the Arctic Monkeys. Will the Libertines diffusion never cease?

I had a brain once. And some eyes. But they appear to have fallen over my keyboard. So hey, the film I gave to my hairdresser won Best Film. I now rather wish I'd kept the film insted of handing it over as a tip.

Want to watch the Simpsons but can't be arsed? Then check out this live-action version of the opening sequence.

I am an inch shorter than being a BBC-approved giantess. Without the heart problems, mercifully.

Oh SHIT. Was halfway through my second handful of delicious, multi-coloured American Smarties when I suddenly remembered that I'd given up chocolate for Lent. Oops...

There's not really a good way of paying tribute to someone you never knew, but I'll try. Linda Smith, who succeeded in kicking Paul Merton's arse every time she went on Just A Minute and The News Quiz and cheered up Radio 4 in general, died yesterday. She was a truly brilliant comedian, wry and constantly funny, and her observations on everything from the mundane to the surreal will be sorely missed by everyone who had the fortune to encounter her humour.

If you are inclined to like Radiohead then the news that a bunch of moozikal stars are recording an album of cover versions may fill you with joy/utter horror accordingly. 'Exit Music: Songs for Radioheads' will be released in April with the Just single being released in March.

Tracklisting...

Shawn Lee - No Surprises
The Randy Watson Experience with Donn - Morning Bell Sa-Ra
Creative Partners - In Limbo
Pete Kuzma with Bilal - High and Dry
Mark Ronson with Alex Greenwald - Just
RJD2 - Airbag
Matthew Herbert with Mara Carlyle - Nice Dream
Lo-Freq - Blow Out
Meshell Ndegeocello & Chris Dave - The National Anthem
The Bad Plus - Karma Police
Sia - Paranoid Android
Osunlade with Erro - Everything In Its Right Place
Wajeed featuring Monica Blaire - Knives Out
Cinematic Orchestra: Exit Music (For A Film)

Another lot of best news ever? Goodbye FAME, hello... Dirty Dancing! Am there with bells on.

It's clearly a day for being perturbed. Just as the magazine's masthead turns into a glorious vision of Vanity Fair, so too do all the blogs that I read have excitingly grown-up fonts that look as though they should have white linen napkins whisked over their laps and a nice cucumber sandwich placed in either hand. Technowhizz #2 is no exception as his looks more refined than a teadance, albeit more fun as this ICF concept proves.

It's something that self-obsessed people with any taste in music have been worrying about for ages - along with what photos to put in your posthumous biography and which choice stories to tell at your wedding, it's which songs to play at your funeral. T #2 reckons that along with your ICE numbers (remember them? Although clearly anyone will just ring the one markem mum-and-or-dad) you should have In Case of Funeral songs. Damn skippy. Although anyone playing anything remotely maudlin at my funeral will have to be instantly shot. The best song I ever heard of was a woman who had 'The Only Way Is Up' by Yazz played at her cremation. With that in mind:

ICF for Kat:
Since You've Been Gone - Rainbow. Relentlessly joyful song with added bonus of finger jabbing and subtle-as-sledgehammer pun.
Copper Girl - 3 Colours Red. If I haven't changed someone's world by the time I die then I won't have lived my life the way I wanted.
Romeo + Juliet - Dire Straits. Just a lovely song. Although wrist-slittingly maudlin under wrong circumstances. Part of a long list of such tunes that I hold near and dear to my heart.

Actually fuck it - I think I'll have this and be done with it. Fucking rrrrrrock!

This looks AWESOME. Am starting to recruit people already.

It's not even 10.00 (although thanks to the perfidious nature of typing it probably is now) and I've learned a delicious factoid: Michael Winterbottom was plannign to film a space movie with Steve Coogan, using the same sets as Danny Boyle's Sunshine project (which will be ACE by the way) - unfortunately they couldn't 'come to an agreement' about it so it, er, isn't happening. On second thoguhts, that's a rubbish fact and I apologise.

I saw a screening of Rent last night - barring the fact that 'rock' and 'opera' are two words that, when put together, strike the fear of god in my heart, it was really great. Due to my exceedingly unprogressive school (plus the fact that our year, when put into a bus, caused a similar reaction to magensium added to water) I never saw the stage show, and only heard the soundtrack when travelling in a daze-fuelled car journey up to the North which didn't do it any favours. It sounded a bit crap actually, unmemorable and gimmicky. Maybe being trapped in the none-more-glossy Sony screening room helped (the pillars were cushioned so that drunken hacks didn't bang themselves on the way out, )cushioned for god's sake) but even maudlin warbles like One Song Glory and Rosario Dawson's octave clambering in Out Tonight got my lip trembling like a gelatinous pudding. It was extremely good and I cried at least seven times which has banned me from ever attending a screening with Blonde Friend again. If expansive, guitar-fuelled escapism is your thing, Rent certainly will be.

My extremely fabulous mate Cat (note: name sharing not always mandatory in order to be friend of Kat) is singing in Orfeo at the ENO soon and as a) she's really good and b) she's playing a nymph (no sniggering! Infants, all of you.) you should totally go and see it. The Colosseum's ceiling is utterly staggering, and seeing as the only even vaguely affordable seats are in the balcony, you'll be getting very well acquainted with it, plus Orfeo has the dual benefits of being really good and pretty short so even the philistines among you won't get bored.