I've been thinking a lot about a girl at work recently. She would look deep into my eyes and seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. She would show insight into my life and seemed to understand my thoughts in a way that no-one else at work even came close to. Our connection seemed magical and special; a truly once-in-a-lifetime thing.

But it turns out she just reads my blog.

Whenever I see the word "superlative", I read it as "superlaxative" and wonder why everyone is bigging up the ability to poop easily.

I've just got dressed for the first time in 62 hours. Clothes feel strangely restrictive.

My friend came over last night and I drove her home in the comfort of my dressing gown. I felt like Arthur Dent (not as in the late Arthur Dent). I was having breaking down/house on fire/earth being destroyed to make way for a hyperspace bypass worries the whole way. And I forgot my towel.

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.

Cadbury's Turkish Delight bars are not halal. There seems to be something a little odd about that. Creme eggs, Mini eggs and "Puds 2002" and a range of "Tree Novelties" are though.

There is now something old-fashioned, archaic even, about people queuing outside banks, waiting for them to open. There is also something slightly perverse about an era where you can buy tupperware/tanning lotion/WD40/pesto/a suit/children’s toys/consumer electronics/avocados at any time of the day or night, and at any time of the year, in a quick visit to your local hyper-conglomerate-mart. Something seems to have got inverted somewhere out there.

I really must stop consuming end-of-the-world-we're-all-going-to-die media. Between my recent inhalation of "Girlfriend in a Coma", "Day of the Triffids", "War of the Worlds", "28 days later", NWO's hints on surviving in 'Post-apocolyptic'" and SARS, I keep thinking the world is going to implode at any second and I'm going to get sleepy/eaten/incinerated/angry/vapourised/a slight cough before teatime.

This type of thinking is just ridiculous. This is all the stuff of cheesy SF, which is funnily enough what most of it is. It would make far more sense to worry about the day Bush gets buttons and croutons all mixed up and accidentally nukes us all because he fancies bread bits in his soup. Now *that* could happen.

According to my friendly travel agents, if you have ever been convicted of a crime or even just arrested (whether you were found guilty or not), you now need a visa to get into America. So that's if you've been arrested for anything. Even a DUI which your daddy might have pulled strings to help you get away with. Anything.

Gosh. I would like to thank the Academy for this great, great honour. I am shocked and awed to receive this award for Best Supporting Actor. When I signed up for "Gulf Wars: Episode 2", I wasn’t looking for awards and praise but when you are working with such wonderful performers like George, Colin and Rumsy, you can’t help but live the dream. That’s what I’m doing here, living the dream. But I haven’t got here on my own, oh no. There are many people I would like to thank: Cherie, for sticking by me and not pointing out silly things like legalities; the UN and the British people for supporting us all the way; Clare Short, for listening, caring and putting aside her principles to think about the greater good; Robin, big hugs; but most of all, I would like to thank God for giving me this opportunity. Without Him, none of this religious intolerance would be possible. Thank you all so very much.