Top Referrer

Every now and then I check where people come from when they come here. I use Site Meter for all my referral stats and it makes for some interesting, surprising and frankly disturbing reading .

And it's all because of this post. That's right, what pulls in all the hits is incest. People who search for inbred people, how to have sex with your sister, and sex with your mum sister arrive at my site as Blurred Clarity comes high in the hit list. What can I say but WOW and what are you sick fucks hoping to find?

Speaking of sick fucks, I was searching for internet p0rn last night and I stumbled upon some superbad fetishes that I can assure you don't arose me but I just find them intriguing...*cough*

• Tickling (Tickle me till I cum? I kid you not)
• Smoking (What is so sexy about naked girls smoking? Hang on...)
• Pony Play (Women pretending to be horses...again, I kid you not)
• Pedal Pumping (Perhaps the funniest, women trying to start cars)
• Cast (That's right, ladies with damaged limbs hanging out)

Whatever happened to interracial, watersports and dwarves?

Conversational Black Hole

I went out last night, tired of being cooped up in the house in some vague act of mourning for Marie's absence. And any way I smelt of sweat and stale body spray so I needed a reason to shower and get the hell out.

So I met up with mates from school at the Castle pub just round the corner from my gaff and had a few jars of ale. I was in the midst of the a chat with the lovely Gemma when I did something that I rarely do, I entered a conversational black hole, a cul-de-sac of of confabulation, a nightmare of vocalised thoughts.

Now I pride myself on my ability to chat shit, to talk endlessly without making a single social faux-pas, it's one of my gifts and makes up for how much I sweat but on this one occasion it all went wrong. It was like watching a car crash, I had a near-death experience as I babbled on to Gemma and I saw myself making an ass of myself.

I won't go into details here, it won't make sense out of context but needless to say that the direction my oration took me was so vacuous, posturing and barren that I blush to think of it.

It was that bad I nearly had a panic attack.

Breaking God's Heart

Courtesy of the legendary Ernie Flapps:

Christianity, I’ve been told by an expert, is a mild form of depression. And one day I was strolling through my town and I saw some Christians selling the message of our Lord and they had put the face of Jesus Christ on a bucket. They had then made a wall out of the buckets.

Surely he never envisaged this? That everything he did would come down to this? Twisting people’s arms to believe in him after all he did. What a sad mess...I bet he deserted us long ago.

This is What I Came to Do

Ring the bell so it's time to eat
Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats
Bomb inside the palm
Doc rock a wifebeater with me beatin my wife ass iron dawn
The front of my apartment built like the Klumps
To carry it I take the spear out the trunk
I stay hungry, I ain't worked for days
That's why you see the pump when the curtains raise
Blast! Don't panic
Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock the rapgame single-handed?
Hell nah! I won't tell you son
If I find a wack idea I sell you one
Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah
My lecture's like Hannibal Lecktor
Where's the ketchup?
Don't speak on it, shut ya trap
I see ya whole crew yellow like mustardpacks
Ah woo, Doc in my own zone
You say you got the rapgames on, but it's all wrong
I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softy truck
Then pull a mack out a box of snowcones
Yeah, ya little fucks
Gimme ya fucking money!

UPDATE FOR RED: A little Oklahoma based story I found for you...

A Racist Joke

Bigotry is such an attention grabber.

Marie is safe and well and out of the hospital now and trying to enjoy the rest of her holiday in the sun so that's good news. Further good news is all the nonsense with Knox is now a thing of the past which will no doubt mean the number of comments will drop to a reasonable level. I might have to start a fight with someone else...

Have I told you that London is bastard hot? Well it is and I'm sweating a lot. The letter writing is slowly easing up as I only have around another 40 to do and I'm already getting some replies back from my first batch; some bad some ambivalent but all it takes is one. All I have to do now is learn all my lines, clean the house and do the ironing.

Over at the excellent Political Moose I found this, which I think you should all watch. A US politician standing up, being counted and wearing his heart on his sleeve. I'll leave you with that to inspire your day.

Funny? Like Ha Ha Funny?

It seems that if anyone did get my free ticket, they couldn't be bothered to email me or some backward spaz without internet got it (or an old person). Either that or it's still sitting there, all useless and forlorn.

The internet 'youth work' I'm carrying out it spreading far and wide, reaching here and here and even here. Bizarre but a nice distraction from the fact I have a lot of work to do and that Marie (my wife) is in hospital in Cyprus after fainting. This is a handy distraction indeed from crying a lot and worrying whether she'll be ok. I just spoke to her and it seems she'll be fine but as soon as I put the phone down I just had to have a cry. The thought of her alone in a foreign hospital bed kills me.

*Ouch* Can we move on?

Perhaps to here and yet another addition to my list of links, this is the blog of uber-talented artist Rich who comments here now and then and is something of an understated genius.

*Ouch* That'll be the worry coming back. I better go.

Random Act of Kindness

I was supposed to be at the theatre tonight watching a three hour version of Uncle Vanya by one of the best companies in the world but I couldn't face it as I have so much work to do at home and want to get an early night. But I couldn't sell my ticket to anyone so I left it with a note in the foyer of the theatre for some one to find (or not) and they get a free seat in the stalls that cost me £26. I left them a note to pop by here and leave a comment so keep 'em peeled...I hope they stop by.

Today has felt a bit like a walking social experiment, whether it's the hilarious deluge of comments from the most depressed teenager in the world or the excellent new blog I've linked to, called Cranky Yankee, or the fact that Antony Mouse is still worryingly quiet, or a deadly new trend in the UK and of course, me leaving a free treat for someone in a theatre.

Today also bought the final session in the boy's school in Willesden which was also, in it's own way, a social experiment. The class went well but Prince (one of the pupils, just in case you thought I meant the diminutive singer of 'Purple Rain') was playing up and distracting everyone to the detriment of the session. When I eventually got his attention I asked him the following question:

In the four sessions I've done with you, have I ever dis-respected you?
He answered no. I went on: In the four sessions I've done with you, have I ever dis-respected anyone in the group? Again, Prince answered no and by the this time the class was hushed. Well, I feel that you're dis-respecting me with your behaviour and I want to ask you why you're doing it? In the silence came the words: I'm sorry. And we got on with the class.

I learnt another lesson today and once again it was Prince that taught me it. We were wrapping up the session with 'Zip, Zap, Boing' a drama game where you pretend to 'zap' people with your hands rather like a laser gun. Prince very honestly turned around and said: "we can't play this cuz all kinds of shootings happen around here". I felt suitably chastened and as if I came from another world. I'll miss my Wednesday afternoons with the lads and I really hope they come and see Human Shrapnel when it's on. I'll be proud to have them there.

Here is a picture of someone else who did random acts of kindness but on a grander scale. Until tomorrow...

I Smash Myself Up

Apart from finding weird things at bus stops I'm so busy rehearsing and typing damn letters to agents and other such important people in my industry. So apologies for lack of posts but the dust should be settling by next week and can focus on acting for a week or so.

Blink O Rama seems to have gone down (but you can click the link anyway) so I hope it's not gone forever and comes back twice as strong. UPDATE! It has now been replaced with a crass blog selling credit cards so looks like a blog hijack! I'm removing the link until this is sorted out!

Speaking of going down like a plane shot to pieces with flame coming from it's tail my good friend John wrote one of the best damn things I've ever read on his blog. Trouble is I know him and one can't help but get a feeling of awful helplessness, so love John by reading how the pain has gone straight to his head...

Speaking of blogs go give Cranky Yankee a try but only if you like full-on politics. It's all gone quiet on the emo-kids blog so maybe he stopped moaning and took his own life and after me vouching for him, Antony Mouse has gone quiet as well. Have I hexed the young bloggers with my voodoo? No, they are just lazy fuckers.

Marie saw Human Shrapnel for the first time (in rehearsal) and she provided me with loads of good ideas to make it better but more importantly she seemed genuinely touched by the piece and she thought it was cool. I know she's got to say that but she is tough when it comes to theatre and her praise meant the world to me and I could tell it really moved her. She's off on a holiday with her mum and I will miss her desperately.

Safe journey Marie. I love you.

The Following Was Stuck on a Bus Stop

I found this stuck on a bus stop at London Bridge and thought I'd share it with you all. You couldn't make it up...

Stop helping racism

I've been threatened by the police, security and people with dogs seriously in London for three years because of the request from Finland. They told people that I was about to become a criminal. I had suffered the threat and harassment over ten years in Finland. They made propaganda that I was mentally sick and the same time they eavesdropped my private home. My brother was harassed and threatened. He worked for Kone company in Hyvinkaa for 12 years. He was burnt alive in Riihimaki Finland. After his death, his wedding ring and bracelet were stolen by the police in Riihimaki and they sent the body for doctor who took his organs and brain. When I discovered the problem the police tried to manipulate the evidence and prevented the complaint and stopped people from seeing the persons who knew the case. I was threatened. When I continue to complain and my grandmother died because of doctor mistake in the hospital in Finland. My second brother was threatened and he got sick seriously. They made the propaganda against me in every country where I went. Please don't let them take advantage your mobile phone to harass and control the victim.

Yours truly

Stressed and Saddam in his Pants

I hate taking out my stress on my lovely lady Marie but last night I did and I've been doing it a lot recently due to it being a difficult and busy time recently. I'm trying to write hundreds of letters, stuff envelopes with a picture of me and a CV (by the way Red, if you want to see what an actor's CV looks like I posted mine here a while back) and I need to get it all done quickly. And my printer is running out of link...

ARSE!

So I was a bit funny with Marie on the phone and I really regret that. Sorry 'Rie my darling and I hope you can forgive me.

On my blog travels the situation of a lowlife UK paper printing images of Saddam in his pants has caused some interesting debate. Here's my take on the matter before I get on with my work.

• The Sun (a disgusting right-wing rag) who published the pictures is owned by Rupert Murdoch who also owns the NY Times who also published the pictures. This is a Rupert Murdoch issue and not a UK newspaper one.
• Yes, it does breach the Geneva convention but so does torturing prisoners and the US previously defended that as viable action. Don't forget that the US military leaked these pictures and I believe on purpose thinking that somehow this will teach the Iraq insurgents a lesson.
• It won't. It will make them even more angry and I believe cost lives as they become more determined to knock the smile off the face of the grinning coalition idiots and their high-handed, de-humanised behaviour.

I'll leave you with this picture.

Idiot Ballads

If you've read my profile you'll have noticed that I have a soft spot for Idiot Ballads.

What are Idiot Ballads I hear you cry? Damn fine question and I'll do my best to answer. Idiot Ballads are fragments of writing and aphorisms written by Ernie Flapps, a talking dog. Their home is normally Lunch Break, one of my favourite sites in the world, but Ernie Flapps has started up a damn blog as well for his stupid thoughts and I'm the happiest man in the world! So read them and he'll be added to my links of note.

Doing some research for 'Human Shrapnel' the play about a veteran I'm doing in June and I stumbled upon this quote from an ex-soldier:

"Every living minute war memories are with me."

The idea that once you've fought you're never the same and that you constantly carry the events of the conflict with you, is one that I wonder if many wannabe soldiers ever consider. Surely they must? I know I wouldn't do it...Well, I would if I had to defend my country from attack but I'm sure I'd still get the nightmares afterwards.

It's Over, Now Come Play With Me

Just got back from the final 'proper' show of Thick As Thieves in London, we sold out, made them laugh, made ourselves laugh and after packing the set in the van nursed our cold beers, embraced and went off into the London night. The next time we'll meet is for tow performances to young offenders in South Tyneside before a farewell show in Mark's house in Netherfield where it all started all those years ago...well 2002.

I'm too tired to be sad but I am sad, I can feel that dull ache of something wonderful passing and the gaping maw of fear and what will replace it.

I'm much too tired to think or type at the moment, I have a day of 9am-9pm rehearsal ahead of me, a massive pile of ironing and letters to be sent to important people about 'Fade to Black' and 'Human Shrapnel'.

But as always I'll leave you with something, I did an interview with a journalist from this newspaper in Pennsylvania about my blog and this one. Which was both nice and weird as I like the thought of reaching people deep in Pennsylvania. Maybe some of them will come visit me and say hi? Hope so.

May I also share with you this caption competition in the vain hope you'll post a caption? I think the picture deserves words and here is some dark madness. I don't know if I like it but I found it and I was kinda hoping it was a fan site for The Darkness but it's not...

Finally here is a picture of a sexy girl! Goodnight.

A Quick One While He's Away

Not really got time to post but as my homepage has had a habit recently of replacing itself with a big white screen, I wanted to re-assure all readers that it's all good at Blurred Clarity. No idea what's causing the problem...unless the emo kid has put a hex on me with his voodoo powers.

A few things before I go to Derby...

Just spent a fortune on having my photos done, for those of you that don't know an actor's photo and CV are his only weapons in the war to get work. Well that and talent but they can't see your talent until they come to see you and that's the problem. They being the people that make the acting world go round, agents, casting directors and other such types. I've off now to collect the first bunch and getting the second load tomorrow from here.

How dull was that?

Yesterday bought a fascinating moment in the rehearsals for Fade to Black (please read if you have no idea of the context of the piece). Our director set up the hotel room in the rehearsal space and we began the opening of the play but improvising around the themes and work done so far. I (in character as James) was on the bed laughing hysterically at the idea of cranberry tea when the laughter turned in to sobbing and I broke down over an imaginary kettle.

The sense that I was in a room that I had once shared with someone I loved utterly and how I could never have them again consumed me and I shuddered to a distressed halt, it took me a while to regain my composure and then carry on with the improvisation.

I love acting.

Teenage Angst Has Paid Off Well

Oh dear.

You've got to laugh...and I do like causing trouble.

I was using the next blog button as I thought to myself that I'd not done much searching for new blog treats and I stumbled upon this and this and some other stuff that I'll tell you about another time.

The first blog took my harsh, remorselessly honest comments on the chin and is upping the ante whislt the second has gone all 'emo' and mardy and is pulling a grump. To young Antony Mouse my hat is tipped but to Knox...I feel a lot of eyeliner running down cheeks being mopped up by sweatbands is in order.

The 9am-9pm rehearsal schedule is taking its toll in terms of posting here so forgive me but things are going very well with both shows. I'm sure it will soon become stable and my posting will get back to normal but until that time, stick in there and remember that tomorrow I'm in Derby and Thursday in London doing the final shows of Thick As Thieves. I tear will be in my eye as I bid farewell to Barry Ireland.

Are You Famous?

I'm on my bus home, it's about 11.45pm after a horrendously laborious journey back from Guildford and the final show at the Yvonne Arnaud theatre. As we arrive at the bus stop outside Borough tube station I notice that there appears to be around 100 young people, mostly dressed in black, engaged in a massive scuffle.

Within the seconds the bus is swarmed by teenagers attempting to escape what turned out to be a gangfight between opposing crews in south east London and after much tension the bus eventually pulls off under a hail of spit and clumsy kicks.

I'm surrounded by a gaggle of girls, one of which is crying as her ankle got hurt in the melee, her mates however are laughing at her and attempting to chat me up. The one opposite lent on my knee and said: "Are you famous?" and before I could reply that yes, I am very slightly famous they leapt off the bus at the next stop.

The final show in Guildford went very well and once again I was filled by nostalgia. I've been doing this play (Thick As Thieves) on and off for 4 years and we are, at last and rightly so, putting it to rest within the next month. Wednesday takes us to Derby and Thursday to London and that, apart from two shows for young offenders in South Tyneside, is that.

Hopefully, we will do one more after that at Mark's house, the place where it all began back in 2002 as a send off to what has been a wonderful adventure.

As we packed up our set tonight and left yet another theatre after making people laugh and disappear happy into the night, I thought about if I'll return to this theatre again and with what show and what context or if this is the last time. And with that thought, I'll leave you.

Yvonne Arnaud

That's where I've been the last few days and will be today. It's not a woman (well it is but I can't 'be away' in a woman can I? Well I suppose...*ahem* Shall we move on?) but a jolly good theatre in Guildford where Mark and I are doing 'Thick As Thieves'. Last night went really well, nearly full and an audience that appreciated the show, apart from perhaps one miserable shit on the front row who I wanted to punch. There's always one.

Time is limited I'm afraid and bloggage may be light as not only is there 'Thick As Thieves' to do but 9am to 9pm rehearsals for my showcase in June and a world of other things to sort out so please bear with me and I will be back. Hopefully with a full and robust post tomorrow!

So until then I'd like to leave you with perfect sideburns and a picture of an fat Goth...

Human Shrapnel

I got up early, got my head together, packed a rucksack full of stuff, some of it I needed, some of it I didn't and ran to school...arriving in a sweaty angry heap in the rehearsal room. Then the real pain began.

'Human Shrapnel' is a play I've written in partnership with a number of war veterans and one young man still fighting in Iraq. It tells the story of a man who joined the army to escape the hell he grew up in and finds himself discharged back into the hell he was running away from but this time he's been trained to kill and seen and done some terrible things.

It's about the circle of violence some young men are trapped in, about how we take soldiers for granted as they lay down their lives for causes they don't believe in, about a young man, ex-soldier, ex-human, trying to exist, trying to keep his head above water, drowning in the deadening sense of his own life.

It's not an easy piece to perform but I got through it four times today. It was like paint stripping my heart. I'll leave you with another excerpt:

It takes a lot of effort to wear down these little people's souls. It takes time to break them in. So the kids wait, drinking pop from plastic bottles with bendy straws, sharing a bag of crisps. Waiting for mum and dad to stop drinking and to start fighting, then at least they'll know that they're there.

Fade to Black

First rehearsal of Fade to Black today, well it wasn't so much a rehearsal as an experience.

Fade to Black is a two hander which will be taking place in a hotel room in London, I'm playing James, a man who has lost his wife to illness and Fiona is playing Rachel, my wife...who is dead so she'll be a aura in the room rather than an actual person. Think 'Ghost' meets 'truly Madly Deeply' and you'll be half way there but this will be happening in a hotel room to an audience of 10 at a time. Intimate ain't the word and I will also be nude in it as I have a shower at some part in the show. Nice. So if any of you want to see my penis please feel free to contact me and book tickets.

Today we recreated the first time James and Rachel met, we did it on location at the National Film Theatre in London on the banks of the Thames and as we acted in a real space our director Luke and writer Gemma watched like Peeping Tom's, scribbling down snatches of dialogue. It was weird to say the least but great fun and nice to flex the Method acting muscles again.

Whilst acting I also struck up a rapport with an old homeless man who was utterly oblivious to the scenario (as it should be) and we talked about many things, including how pictures suck his skin dry of good chemicals and how his mother held him in her arms when he was born and was so sure he was dead she asked the nurse to have him cremated.

The class at the boy's school went very well and the lads seem keen to come and see me when I do 'Human Shrapnel' which I'll tell you more about tomorrow after the first rehearsal.

Better get learning lines...

Training to be a Rebel Clown

And so we begin the final phase at drama school, by June 24th this life changing adventure will be over and I'll be back out into the normal world, looking for work, trying, for the first time properly, to make it as an actor. Come on.

Things are moving at pace, tomorrow I start rehearsals for 'Fade to Black' and Thursday brings rehearsals for 'Human Shrapnel' otherwise known as my baby. Not a real baby of course as that would be weird...Meetings today to discuss show times, number of shows and our technical requirements meant that it felt as if we were truely underway on our adventure to make excellent theatre. Lines have to be learnt and pieces knocked into shape. Exciting and terrifying.

Unlike Theatre of Blood which was a dire pile of horseshit. I loath theatre that's about theatre, how annoyingly self-referential and embarrassing to watch a play puff itself up and have the termerity to think that's it's actually about something. Self-mythologising pomp and nonsense! It wasn't helped by Jim Broadbent forgetting his lines as the play trotted to it's dull peak like a disabled horse. What a lamentable waste of £20.

I'll leave you with another excerpt from 'Human Shrapnel'...

I came home from school one day and walked into the kitchen to see my mummy hanging from the light fitting. Swinging back and forth, back and forth, stupid young face nearly torn off from her pretty neck. Streaks of piss running down her track marked thighs. Imagine that, ten years of age and walking in on that? Imagine what that'd do to your little head? At the time though didn't seem to bother me much, I carried on as normal and told no one. I left her there just like dad did when he walked out on us, swinging back and forth back and forth, before one of the new boyfriends, on his way round for a bit of her fanny and mouth, found out and got the Council to cut her down and sent me to my dad's. I worked around her they said, the little man just worked around her.

Busy and Tired Blues Explosion!

I'm too busy to post but in a bizarre twist of fate I'm posting to tell you that. Reason being just been ambushed by an essay that I didn't know I had to do, the bastards got me in a half-nelson and I'm struggling for air but I'm not going to tap out dammit!

Tomorrow is the beginning of the end of drama school, we begin on the final projects which for me is 'Human Shrapnel' (more of which I'll post when I've time) a monologue about a war veteran fresh from being discharged and coping with life and a site specific piece in a hotel called 'Fade to Black' about a man whose lost his wife to cancer. Cheerful stuff...

I'm also off to the National as well Monday to see Theatre of Blood so I doubt there'll be much posting.

Look after yourselves until I get back!

Your Sister Who is Also Your Mum

Yesterday bought another performance of Thick As Thieves, this time in Lincolnshire which is famous for being the home to a legion of inbred people, you know, three fingers, webbed feet and eyes too close together. In spite of the inbreeding the show went down very well, lots of laughing, in fact sometimes laughing at bits people never usually laugh at and general hysterical behaviour. Cool.

Having said that I still don't like Lincolnshire very much, not very racially integrated and full of deformed people who have sex with their own relatives.

I'm feeling pretty chirpy today as I reckon one of the agents who was interested in signing me up is actually very bloody keen indeed. I may need to contact Barnaby for a bit of advice about the matter but getting an agent was one of my main aims to re-launch my acting career, one step at a time.

Off for lunch with Kirky now, then out with my good lady Marie this evening.

Mind how you go!

I Look Like a Thug

Today I had a haircut, in preparation for the performance of 'Human Shrapnel' where I play an ex-soldier. It looks the business, a proper marine crew cut but I do look like a thug/convict/killer. Either that or a really tall, butch version of Jimmy Somerville from Bronski Beat/The Communards.

Have you noticed how many strokes I've been using in this post? Not these strokes though as I hate them and their God awful music.

Red enquired about my night in Soho and to be honest I can't remember, I drank a lot of beer, some wine and had a cracking night out with pals.

I Hurt

Had a profound experience yesterday whilst running an after school drama class for the young men at Cardinal Hinsley Boys High School in Willesden. I had to break up a fight and when the dust had settled and both lads involved were seperated, the anger and pain in one of them as he rested in his chair was one of the most moving things I'd seen for some time. Barely able to speak he clenched his fists and through tears whispered "I hurt...I hurt...I swear..."

The teacher took him outside for some air and the session carried on as normal, such is the brutality of youth. The other boy remained in the room, crowing at his 'victory' and talking up how he has been waiting to have a fight. Such pomp and arrogance is as impressive as it is foolish. When the other lad returned to the class room I made him laugh (he did walk in on everyone else making cow noises so it wasn't hard) and made sure he was OK and the rest of the class passed without incident.

Walking away from the school I recalled the line "We're all from crime, violence and stress" and thought of my own time at school, the area I hung around in and the ease with which you can, as a young man in Britain, disappear into the underbelly and never return. My thoughts turned to my dead friends, consumed by drugs, violence, prison and drink and I paid my respects to my brothers and got on a train to get drunk in Soho.

It seems that every sod has got a blog, including Darth Vader and I urge you go and read it and have a laugh at the Sith Lords expense.

Today is also election time in the UK and this post at Blood & Treasure just about sums up my feelings, I've already banged on about this enough so you can read someone else banging on instead.

May I leave you (indeed you may never come out...so to speak) with the excellent Babe Engine which is a marvellous website for all your internet p0rn needs...that is if you like girls being drenched in man fat whilst wearing stockings. You just enter your requirements, let's say: hardcore video clip of a blonde with pigtails and small tits having a threesome in a hat and thong in a classroom with domination and swollen red baboon ass.

*ahem*

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before

Today is a good day...

Another agent phoned as I stood outside London Dungeons waiting for my bus home who is very interested in taking me on, they're coming to see me on the 18th May along with another agent so that's all good. Maybe they might have a bidding war there and then or more likely they creep out early to avoid any embarrassing scene as I thrust myself upon them in a desperate act of public humiliation. You try selling yourself with dignity, it's not easy.

And the sun is at last shining in London my dear friends, which is always topper. Working on the boat on the Thames again today and it was nice to bask in the sun whilst looking out over the capital, tomorrow we put the finishing touches on the film we made and then I'm off to Lincoln to do Thick As Thieves there. I also got the dates through for 'Human Shrapnel' (my showcase at drama school, along with 'Fade to Black' which is site specific in a hotel but more of both of those later) which is great but now means it's all hands to the deck inviting important people and working damn hard. Wish me luck.

As mentioned I'm going to give you a few links that'll hopefully stimulate you over the next few days/weeks/months, so first up is a brief guide to who owns the US media and another excellent collection of images from Iraq War Version 2.0

Today is a good day... Scratch that. Not while brave men and women are dying for a false cause and Iraqi families are having their homes destroyed whilst we watch on.

I'm Alan Partridge

Well I'm not Alan Partridge but he is! This is a heads up to all those not familiar with this man's genius, please go and buy all the DVDs and any audio you can pick up and a good place to start is just here if you know nothing. How can you not find a man funny who calls a gin and tonic, a pint of lager and a Bailey's a 'Lady Boy'? Or for that matter who, after making love, exclaims 'That was classic intercourse'.

Barnaby's comment on this post has inspired me to dig around my usual sources of facts and post said links here, so when I've time I will. Until then make do with a picture of a ugly man...

You Know You're Right

I will never bother you
I will never promise to
I will never follow you
I will never bother you
Never speak a word again
I will crawl away for good
I will move away from here
You won’t be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it would come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never felt this well
Pain
You know you’re right
I’m so warm and calm inside
I no longer have to hide
Let’s talk about someone else
Steaming soup against her mouth
Nothing really bothers her
She just wants to love herself
I will move away from here
You won’t be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
I always knew it’d come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never felt this well
Pain
You know you’re right
Pain

Been listening to this song a lot lately, it moves me. I'm a big Nirvana fan but only just got into this song as I refused to buy the Nirvana 'best of' as I own all the songs bar this one. If you have a few spare cents and love quality guitar based noise then go buy it.

Marie and I were at the National last night to see Henry IV Part II and Michael Gambon was once again outstanding as Falstaff, uttterly at ease, utterly brilliant. David Bradley as King Henry IV nearly stole it though with an amazing performance, I swear that during the deathbed scene his frame rotted away right in front of my eyes; seemingly being consumed by the sheets around him. So if you've got a spare three hours in London go see it.

Finally, may I point your attention to an excellent caption competition and urge you to post some words to the picture you witness. You know it makes sense...