Let it be said that nothing tastes better than cous cous and rocket at stupid hours of the morning.

It amazes me how much James Blunt continues to make me want to scrape out my ears with shards of glass. Maybe it's the too twee for words voice, the insipid melodies, the fact you're supposed to feel slightly reverent at the fact he used to be fighting for Queen and country in t'militreh but maybe most of all it's the fact my housemates and their extremely excellent friends all adore the bastard and, worst of all, have arranged backstage passes. The ONE TIME I could go backstage and it was to James 'mediocre is above me' Blunt. If I didn't break out in a rash everytime I heard that word, he'd become rhyming slang quicker than you could say platinum selling album.

24 hours and I'll be on a train to end up in Germany where there is no James Blunt.

Teri Hatcher truly has reached new lows. Never mind the fact she threw a hissy fit at not winning an Emmy, now she's blaming her behaviour on...her daughter.

Yes, apparently the super-hyper-irritating one old someone who told someone who told Ananova that it was only because of her little daughter that she was upset at not winning the best actress gong. And nothing whatsoever to do with insecurity at the fact the rest of the cast trounce her in the acting stakes.

"I didn't care at all about losing, but I just didn't want Emerson to feel bad," said the freakish witch.

Sore are we? Jeez.

Hurray! If you need something really good to do this weekend then head along to the Riverside Studios and watch Bread and Tulips in a double bill with Agata and the Storm. Bread and Tulips is gorgeous - like Shirley Valentine in Venice - and it's got bruno Ganz pre-Downfall in it as a lovely Icelandic waiter.

It's on this Friday and Saturday at 8.55pm for £6.50 (quid off if you've got a concession)

This is shameful self-publicity but fuck it, it looks so pretty I don't care. Head to Gigwise and admiore and worship the glorious flash! Ooh, there's my back. Then read my GLC interview, obviously. Gigwise is here.

Rock! 6 Music, rock! They're playing the first single I ever bought, Trash by Suede. I even sent off one of those quaint postal order thigns to get the limited edition vinyl, which meant I ad twice as much sitting-in-bedroom-swaying-back-and-forward fun. Brilliant!

Arrrrrrrrrrrrr me hearties if it ain't that time of year again! Yep, it's Talk Like a Pirate Day.

I really need to leave this country. Next week cannot possibly come too soon.

Dammit again! As if I needed another internet distraction, my soul has been eaten by My Space.

*EVERYONE needs yet another internet distraction.

I suppose I'm filling in the minutes between things about cars and telly before I am forced to use t'internet for good and not evil.

For the moment however, you can find me wasting time
here

Fact or fiction? Hilarious or, er, not?

The most accurate prediction on where terrorists will attack next, wins. The definition of terrorist attack stands here for a war action aimed at any civil target on any location that’s not already involved in any kind of "official" war or so intetend by U.S. administration. Thus comnsider a peaceful territory where there could be at least 10 random civil victims within 48hrs (missing people will not be included).

The person guessing the right technique used (a bomb attack, a suicide bomber, chemical weapons, etc.) and getting the closest location of the attack, will be contacted by e-mail and will receive the exclusive where-next.com T-shirt, showing the place and the time of the attack. A new game will start after every successful attack and the previous bets will be cancelled.

Er, what now?

Dammit! I've just been fired from my only vaguely reliable source of pin money for not living in Wales. Althoughs seeing as I just called it "pin" money maybe the 19th century is a *bit* far away.

Phew. Have finished the GLC interview. This is good, because up until about 15 minutes ago my transcript consisted of this:

Orange alert – Spanish tomatoes.

She’s alright, I prefer Geri.

He’s probably one of the best footballers this country’s ever had

I don’t remember really, we spent most of our time getting high

Tunes mostly. We’ve got some different words

Something about Stannah stairlifts.

Worm eggs.

It seems ridiculous to me, they’re so comfy why isn’t everyone doing it?

Devon woman Joan Worth is mystified after her snow white cat Brumas suddenly turned bright pink.

Philip and Joan Worth, of Bratton Clovelly, near Okehampton, could not believe their eyes when Brumas came home.

The nine-year-old cat had undergone a drastic transformation.

Mrs Worth said: "He was pink - Barbie pink. His head, ears and right down his body, although not underneath, had gone a quite brilliant pink."

Mr Worth added: "He went out snow white and came back Barbie pink.

"We went to the vet, but they couldn't find any reason for it, although they decided it wasn't toxic, which was what I was worried about."

See the scary freak cat here

Jesus, that's the new Oasis single? I thought it was Coldplay.

Oh my GOD life just gets better and better. I'm going to write about soaps! Yes, soaps! I'll actually *have* to watch them! No longer can people take the piss out of me for recording Neighbours. Oh, wait...

Hurrah! The video to the excellent new Franz Ferdinand single is out and it's really good. Hark as they run around in matching outfits looking askance at cool art types! Gasp as they get all the arty people dancing in unison, even the scantily clad shop window models! Then watch the brilliant T.Raumschiere vid and decide which you like best.
Franz T.Raumschiere

While trawling the net for Radio Times trivia I made a test. So far everyone has got it wrong (unless they googled which is rubbish).

Which one of these programme titles is not real?

The Boy They Called Chucky
The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off
The Boy With The Incredible Brain
The Boy With Two Heads

(See also My Breasts Are Too Big, My Mum Is My Dad and The Strangest Village in Britain. Jesus.)

Oh. My. God. I am there already.

!!!!!

Want to appear in the new Test Icicles video next week? Send your name, age and phone
number/email address, photo, soul, bribes, small Amazonian pugs to test.icicles@independ.net.

What do you mean you've never heard of them? Oh all right then...

I should probably nominate another site to be my hot site (jesus what an appalling phrase) but the Gods and Undergrads creator has suddenly shot into overdrive meaning that it's being updated a lot more. If you haven't had a look already you should - it's really good myths and magic stuff swung in with a dollop of Kevin Smith and your typical college drama. Mmmm.

Ooh look it's Monday. Where *did* the time go. A lot of people I know are up in righteous anger about Bush's inaction regarding Hurrican Katrina. I am just rather glad that I am nowhere near a storm. Righteous inaction is pretty much where I stand when actual opinion isn't available.

It's even less available now as my brain is currently occupied with trying not to think about the gaping wound in my elbow. So giving blood is no more fun the more you do it. Possibly having a 12-month gap between appointments was erring on the lax side but it was bloody horrible and one of my least favourite things to do. The nurses were switched onto hyper chirpy which made keeping a grim silence rather impossible. Then it all went wrong anyway as the my bloody blood wasn't being removed fast enough and they had to wiggle the needle around which proved too much for my anti-needle sensibilities and I cried like a small infant.

I got some biscuits and a packet of crisps out of it though. Yum.

The T.A.F. has, understandably, taken umbrage at being a token anything. "I don't fit in any parking machines anywhere," he said huffily. My bad. On the bright side, everyone, austra-hoojima-whatever should take great joy in the fact that Flight of the Conchords start their new show at 10 on Radio 2 tonight - it's going to be genius so download it, listen to it, or check it out tomorrow.

The Conchords suffer a setback when Bret has an accident at the Tower of London. Their first UK gig is in jeopardy. Can Neil Finn save the day?

You betcha.