Top five ways in which I am so damn English:

• My boss just complimented my cardigan and I freaked out. Actually, I think that can be reduced just to the fact that I am wearing a cardigan. That's English enough.
• Last week, someone prodded me in the face with a very sharp umbrella arm and I apologised.
• My friend went to hug me last night and I ran a mile despite feeling like crap (hence the supposed need for a hug).
• Due to the usual stiff upper lip, personal insecurities and a tendency towards being "vocally challenged" when under pressure, I can rarely express an emotion in the same year that it is felt.
• I understand the game of cricket (although, to be fair, not why people play or watch it).

I’m so poor (BUTTpoor one might say) at the moment that I think my poor-ness has looped back on itself, like a rollover score on a computer game, and I am now exceptionally wealthy. Champaggin anyone?

Question: on a scale of one to oh-my-god, how bad is it that I've taken advice about my love life from an episode of 'Frasier'?

Yesterday I went to the students union (despite not being either a student or part of any union[1]) to get some lunch and there was a vegetarian convention on in one of the conference rooms. They were playing really awful "world" music to try to lore people in to join the fandango[2]. I didn't realise "appreciation" of such "world" "music" was a pre-requisite for being “veggie”. I feel the sudden need to eat a whole cow, perhaps even an entire herd[3]. The vegematarians amongst us are obviously really letting the side down: I haven’t checked too closely but I strongly suspect there is not one panpipe CD between them.[4]

[1] This is actually a lie. I am a part-time student because I go to night school and am member of the students’ union for all the discounts and freebies that it brings. I just lied to distance myself from godawful students that usually frequent such places. I’m not one of them. I hated them even when I was one.
[2] Upon entering the hippy world that is currently ‘Conference Room B’, I presume you would be strip searched (including your stomach lining and lower intestinal tract) to check you didn't have any meat or meat products on you. They wouldn’t just let you join the fandango willy-nilly you know. There are RULES.
[3] But only if I could be sure I was taking out whole families and friendship networks to ensure that there was no one less to mourn the loss.[6]
[4] and if there is I’m doing to open a can of beans, pork sausages and whup-ass on the owner of said CD ASAP.
[5] there is no number 5. It is just an illusion.[7]
[6] I’m paraphrasing edward’s philosophy towards prawns here and maybe mocking it just *slightly*
[7] and it is an illusion that ensures that the footnotes to this diary entry are double the length of the entry itself. It’s madness I tell you, sheer meat-free madness.

Oh God, I think I'm turning into my mother.

Actually, I think I'm turning into your mother, which is slightly worrying since you've just been staring at my breasts, you sick mother-boob-staring-at pre-vert.

Now tidy your room.

Now I know I started it but really, I think it is time that all this talk of nakedness should stop. I want to be able to read these things without feeling the need to rinse out my mind's eye with bleach just to make the mental images go away. (That's more difficult than you might think, btw, rinsing out your mind's eye with anything. Or sticking a Tangfastic Haribo in it. It needs both practise and perseverance. And stupidity. Yes, perhaps a little stupidity.)

ANYWAY, so no more talk of nudeyness.

*looks around Peter Griffin styleee* Boobies.

I suddenly have the urge to think about Susan running naked about the office.

I won't though.

*raises eyebrow* Or will I?

I suddenly have the urge to run naked about my (currently other-people-less) office.

I won't though.

*raises eyebrow* Or will I?

I was actually on time for work today. Not my usual "on time" - which is 20 minutes late (10 minutes late is "early" and 30 minutes late is "ooh getting a touch on the late side now") but on time on time.

I'm going to reward myself for my fantabulous time-keeping by doing as little work as possible during the day.

Long live punctuality!

This page actually exists: www.MenWhoLookLikeKennyRogers.com

and includes tips on how to look like him if you don't already.