Apparently, if your cat sprays, you can fix it with Neurosurgery (for the cat). Methods such as frontal lobotomy, destruction of the sense of smell and severing urinary tract muscles are all available.

I dislike cat-pee as much as the next guy, especially when it's found in my toaster a few minutes after putting some toast in but I couldn't possibly justify cutting part of the cats brain out to stop it.

People like that don't want a cat, they just want something fluffy. Get a fucking Furby for chrissakes.

After spending a few heady days enjoying gothic erections, goulash and bug-eyed staring at the locals, I have come to the conclusion that it is necessary for post-communist states to speed through the capitalist years they’ve missed out upon.

In the 14 years since the communist government fell and Havel came to power, they seem to have motored through near on 40 years of capitalist excess and are now firmly rooted in the 1980s. Aside from the ultra-hip modern Europhile teens, most of the population seems to be "digging" faded stripey shirts, on-the-side ponytails and grey or brown polyester C&A slacks. Our taxi driver, on the return to airport, was the epitome of eighties style: from his Kajagoogoo haircut to the Def Leppard on the stereo. You could tell he wanted to be in Marty McFly’s DeLorean instead of the sweet black Mercedes fleet car he was driving. He also insisted on driving between 120-140km per hour through the built-up suburbs but thankfully all the kids were inside watching the Ghostbusters cartoon instead of playing in the streets. Possibly because he knocked the legs off them last time he was passing.

I went on holiday with a girl to Prague in the Czech Republic last week. It was nice. Everybody seems very thin and very tall. The train station isn't finished yet either.

I was buying a digital camera online this morning and noticed a "enter discount code" box on the payment page. Enter google, keywords "pixmania.co.uk discount code".

I found that Kelkoo had run some kind of special offer and displayed discount codes on their website. The special offer had expired, but Google had a cache of the page. One copy and paste later and a saving of £10.

Shopping on a Sunday in Leeds, as most likely on any day, is like an army training course, except everyone is dressed up as if it's a Jean-Paul Gaultier model audition.

I imagine myself strafing from Starbucks to Starbucks, with my credit-card-loaded shot-gun and my royalty-card shield, facing the oncoming marching armies of escapee GAP shop mannequins carrying shopping bags, armed with a minimum of 1 fully charged mobile phone each and a backup can of hairspray.

I bought some trousers that seem to be designed for people who *do* have a 38 inch waist but somehow have the legs of a disabled bulimic boy-scout with a stapled stomach.

I had a dream about, your friend and mine, the wonderful American President last night. It didn't involve any nudity, penetration or horrific violence though. It's a shame as a dream where the Bushmeister was humiliatingly naked, being viciously penetrated by all the people he has fucked over in the last two and a half years and then getting beaten until he was a bloody, quivering mess on the floor would be quite pleasant really.

Tomorrow is my last concurrent work day. I quit. This company and these people are hopeless, clueless and talentless. The worst part is they seem to think quite the opposite. It's a bit like a dot-com but without the money.

There are a few more things like this going on at New World Odour at the moment, which explains the missing issues. Hopefully when it's all over we can get back to being hilarious and the peope of the Internet can get back to finding us with weird key phrases on Google.

If I’ve got my no-study-needed degree, enlarged sexual organs and “HALF Price Omaha Steaks with 3 Gifts!”, why would I be at all bothered about the state of my septic tank?

I've eaten too many olives this lunchtime because big jars of them were on offer in Morrisons. I feel quite, quite sick. They were black Greek olives so at least my vomit will be an interesting colour.