I found out today that Nestle make watercoolers.

The paranoid part of me wonders if they'll get us all addicted to their pleasantly chilled water then cut off our free source and force us to pay a ridiculous amount of money for it instead.

Of course, that's me just being paranoid and ridiculous - after all, Nestle would never do something like that. They make Smarties so they could never do anything that evil.

I can hear my boss flirting. It is somewhat horrific.

Last night was Bonfire Night in the UK. For countries that don't know about other places' history (hello Americans), this annual event commemorates a failed attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. The main perpetrator was Guy Fawkes, a member of a provincial Catholic group that planned an explosion using 36 barrels of gunpowder to kill King James I and replace his brand of religious intolerance with their own variety.

Fawkes' plan was thwarted by a tall and handsome (or so the legend goes...) Protestant and, for his sins, Fawkes was hanged, drawn and quartered. After having lived through another 5th November "celebration", I wonder, in comparison, he got let off a bit lightly. Idiots and ridiculous amounts of fireworks seem to go together like saltpetre, charcoal and sulphur.

Giving every moron in Britain the right to buy as many small explosive devices as he (invariably) wishes each November to "celebrate" Guy Fawkes' terrorist attempt is like giving each children in America the chance to fly their own plane in order to commemorate September 11th. I wonder if, in three hundred years time, we'll be burning effigies (or not) of Muslims on bonfires instead.

Remember, remember, the eleventh of September,
Jet planes, the reasons and the lot.
I see no reason why any sort of, um, reason
Should get in the way of the .. bombing of Afghanistan, then the lying to the American public and taking away even more of their civil freedoms under the name of PATRIOTism, then gross arse-shafting of everyone with any sort of connection to the Muslim faith or the Middle East or has the same birthdate as anyone connected to either Islam or the Middle East, then the forging fake links between bin Laden and Hussein in order to invade Iraq, then the lying to other countries around the world about WMDs, then the ignoring global public opinion, then the bombing and indiscrimate killing of civilians, then the unlawful theft of Iraq's oil .. plot.

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 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.

it's times like these that i wish i had a sniper rifle.

I watched The Money Pit last night and mistook it for a reality tv docu-tainment-ertisement show. Still, I might have a half decorated living room but at least I don't have to put up with Shelley Long. Or Tom Hanks. Or Meg Ryan.

I'm going to take up masturbation just so if someone asks what I'm doing, I can just say "gee Ma, I'm playing the clitar".

April showers. APRIL. Not May. Quit it with the rain already.

i think i may have accidentally (boob) flashed my head of department today.

hopefully both of us will be too embarrassed to mention it so it can quietly go about dwelling in the dark, unswept cavities of our brains until one day it is ripped from us under psychotheraptical hypnosis and we breakdown screaming "boobies, boobies, oh yes, boobies everywhere".