Mort, Terry Pratchett and Alzheimer's

I've finished a book on my list! It only took a month!

Mort, by Terry Pratchett.
I really enjoyed this, it's very well written, very enjoyable and has mostly cured my fear of Death, or the personification thereof. I took an inordinate time to read this, partly through losing it and getting diverted by Richard Herring's Bye Bye Balham (which I can't get into for no good reason, I like it, but don't go back for more. Go figure) and partly through not being able to read with one eye.

I loved getting engrossed in the story of this, that's my favourite sort of reading. And so, despite having decided to read Ben Goldacre's book, I'm going to read Lottery by Patricia Wood, just because I want a story.

I finished Mort last night, and shortly before I did I watched the second part of Terry Pratchett's documentary about his Alzheimer's. I found the first installment of this fascinating, and while still moving, not completely heart breaking because they did not feature his family. He had with him his PA, Rob, who was involved and could comment on the changes, but who was not as involved as a family member. The second installment was rather more depressing as it did feature family members, not Pratchett's own family but the family of other sufferers. He also looked at potential treatment and considered the ethics. This is the first programme about Alzheimer's I've been able to watch and it was very informative and interesting.

Reading and enjoying a book by someone who clearly has an untterly brilliantly creative mind, and then watching him accept that he is on a journey which will end with the destruction of that brilliant mind, is all a almost TOO poignant. I feel rather lucky that I have all of his books to read anew, and a bit inclined to kick myself for ignoring them to date, but it will be impossible not to mourn the impending premature deterioration of a genius as I read the product of that genius.

Twitterific

To be entirely boring: Twitter and iPhone. Tune out now.

Twitter is amusing me lots. For some reason everyone I asked to join, did. Maybe because I didn't ask everyone-I-know and asked the ones that possibly might be interested in my updates. Just the one missing, who will be returning to normal life tomorrow and will hopefully comply.

Richard Herring joined hours after I suggested he did on his guestbook. This may be complete coincidence, but if it is true, then how marvellous is the internet? To be able to say "hey you, this is great, try it" to someone who has no idea who you are, someone who you'd like to read about, and they do. Not because it's you*, obviously, but because it's a cool thing.

*delusional daydreaming aside

There's all manner of other stalkerworthy people on there and I am reminded of how amusing Chris Addison (the second most attractive man on the planet), Dave Gorman and Stephen Fry (the patron saint of Twitter) actually are. And then I added people I don't actually normally think about, like Phillip Schofield (who's very interesting and I had nothing against him, just didn't think about him) and Jonathan Ross (who I may delete, he's a bit annoying, which is always is, slight error of judgement). Ben Goldacre (new hero) has interesting little snippets.

It's a bit strange, like blogging lite. But it's sort of the opposite of stalking, those who wish to be stalked provide the information so the stalkers can legitimately read it. Which is a little weird really. But hey. Look at me getting all giddy over some celebrity tweeting. They're not ACTUALLY talking to me, I'm just reading it.

Of course there's the lovely thing of updates from friends. Always nice. And more important than the above starry eyed awe would indicate.

Come play. Click the link over there and join the mindlessness. There is no point, that's the point.

Daily iPhone love: I got Tweetie for it. I did. I'm so sad. I paid £1.79 for it, but oh it is nice. And while I was throwing money at Apple, I downloaded Yahtzee Adventures. I love Yahtzee. I actually wore out the section of the screen on my Palm where the "roll again" button was (this is why you want a screen that functions like the iPhone or G1, not like the B****b***y or any other W****** mobile device). It's ace. I could play Yahtzee forever and this has a bizarro adventure mode. Best game ever (that doesn't feature Mario).

Gratuitous picture of Chris Addison:

NB Still reading Bye Bye Balham by Richard Herring. It's great. Buy it from here . While you're at it, buy this from Amazon, it's fabulous.

Goodliness and the art of miscommunication

Being goodly:

My books arrived today. "Professor Stewart's Cabinet of Mathematical Curiosities" by Ian Stewart and "Bad Science" by Ben Goldacre. I sooooooo want to read both of them immediately, one is about mathsy things and problems (and by Ian Stewart who is fabulously fabulous) and the other is about ranting and mentions the 'MMR hoax' on the back cover. Oh yes!

I get so angry any time I THINK about the MMR thing; it is appalling that such a furore was allowed to happen and I was furious that when my children came to get theirs, I had a moment of "should I...?" when of COURSE I should, there is NO LINK and it was WRONG but the furore was such to put doubt in the mind of all mothers. Even one who disbelieves everything and is supposedly educated in such things. Grrr. I may have mentioned this, it's one of those "ready, steady, RANT" subjects.

So, a whole book of rants like that (not like that rant, rants on subjects such as that. I'm guessing Mr Goldacre rants more eloquently than I).

Bring it on! And other things I don't usually say!

But look. She is goodly. She hasn't opened either book yet.

I am continuing to read Mort by Terry Pratchett. I am on page 17 (I don't get much chance to read, ok? I'm going to crack on once I'm done ranting) and so far... not put off or scared out of my tiny mind. I am not casting it aside for no crime other than not being the book I've taken a fancy to reading. I will stick to One Book at a Time. I will!

NB: my love* for Andrew Collins endures (terribly terrible taste in music aside),
even though I've switched to the "other side" all round. I'm fickle, but not totally fickle.

The art of miscommunication:

This internet lark is frustrating most of the time. Mostly because it is populated (not entirely) by idiots, and lotsly because sarcasm isn't immediately apparent when unaccompanied by facial expressions and intonation. If it wasn't for encountering splendidly splendid people (virtually all of whom love* either Andrew Collins or Bernard Butler) in amongst the waves of vacousness, I would be packing up my fingers and flouncing offline.

I have been reading with interest the debate sparked by Richard Herring's declaration of love* for his iPhone.

We have la:

Subject: Re: iPhone [ REPLY ]
Posted by: JJ on 26/Jan/09

On 26/Jan/09, angrygadgetphobe wrote:
> Right, that's it. If he posts one more thing about his fecking iPhone I'm taking a hiatus from reading this blog. I had enough of it from Stephen Fry in 2007 (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2007/nov/10/iphone1).
>
> You can find out about any song just by playing it to your phone. I can (somehow) figure out how to make my food budget of just £15 last over 5 days. They're both admirable processes. One is of zero interest to somebody who collects 5ps of the street to feed a meter.
>
> I don't care about the phone. I care about the people you meet and the gigs that you do and daft things that happen.
>
>Am I alone in thinking that iPhones were invented so that grown men without families have something to spend their money on?

I may be grown, but I am not a man, I do have a family, and I love* both the iPhone and Richard Herring, I cannot remain silent. And so I posted this, in which I forgot everything I know about the English language:

Subject: iSmug [ REPLY ]
Posted by: MD on 27/Jan/09

Interestingly the iPhone doesn't actually DO anything, it's all a Emperor's New Clothes thing and none of us are prepared to admit that we've been duped. It's pyramid selling thing though, we have to get other people to buy it to recoup our losses.

Incidentally, please don't review or indeed refer anything in London, I can't afford to go so find it exclusive. If I'm not interested, I think it safe to say: no one is.

Not expecting this as a reply:

Subject: Re: iSmug [ REPLY ]
Posted by: Darren on 27/Jan/09 Bloody hell, there's been a few posts in the last few days criticising Warming Up, which I find ridiculous.

Rich doesn't give a shit what we think of his blog, and I hope it stays that way. Unlike his stand-up, or the podcasts, it's not here for our entertainment, it's here to help him write. Even if he writes a load of balls on some days, sometimes it's the rubbish that can lead to something better.

>>Quoting moi, just to make sure that it was clear what he was referring to.

Give me the strength to tolerate fools...

So I conclude from this:

1) I'm not very funny
2) Sarcasm not apparent

or

3) People, like Darren, are stupid

and regardless

4) I'm not very nice

It is also apparent, due to my renewed love* for Mr H, that loving* an iPhone is quite enough to pull someone. If you're Richard Herring**. And you're not actually pulling someone because they're married and you're attached. And that someone is someone like me. But y'know, in (quite) different circumstances.


*love: possible overenthusiastic term. Muchos admiration of.
**he has other attributes.

I love...

1) My toilet

I didn't realise how damned lovely it was to have the full use of a toilet in one's house until I spent nearly 24 hours with a useless toilet and a bucket to flush with. A new toilet was installed today and oh boy is it nice to have. Sadly it took them rather too many hours with the water off and by the end I was in desperate need of a coffee and a pee. I was not amused by the suggestion that I could in fact solve both requirements in one unpleasant go.


2) Richard Herring

I'm not bonkers. Or I'm no more bonkers than he is anyway, which is *distinctly* unbonkersy. He got an iPhone and he gets it! He does! He realises the love! Read here to see that I am not alone in my belovedness of the bestest ever gadgetry.
He blogged about sleep one time at virtually the exact same moment I did. And he pondered about getting old the day after my birthday. So to show my utmost respect for things that are most definitely not complete coincidence, I'm putting him second to a toilet in a list of meaninglessness.


3) Books

I have read 3 books in a little over a week. Oh yes. Finished completely. Three separate books. All chick lit, all from the charts in Tesco. I've started another 3 but they went the way of most books (into the later pile) on account of needing a brain. No offence to any of the books I did read, but sometimes (the week after exams) you really need to switch off and into easy reading. Three different books, but strangely all came down to the same point: appreciate what you've got.

So I have been. For all that is crap, if I changed anything at all in my past, I might not be here now with two amazing children and I wouldn't change them for any of the things I think I need.

And now I'm going to read a book entitled Bye Bye Balham, which I may read sitting on the toilet just to celebrate this list.

***I know I should be talking about Obama, Tony Hart, Patrick McGoohan and other things that matter, but I'd be a bit "what they said" which makes for unnecessity. So all noted, all thought about, words not forthcoming through no fault of their own.***

synaptic snaps

Richard Herring is on Buzzcocks tomorrow. Richard Herring. Buzzcocks. Marvellous.

People are cruel. It is a source of constant amazement how far people are prepared to go in order to get a laugh or shift blame from themselves. Emotional blackmail is contemptible, it's manipulative and also carries the underlying sentiment that the recipient doesn't care, while trying to force them to. Parody needs to stop short of actual nastiness. People would do well just to appreciate each other once in a while.

Go be nice to someone just for the sake of it. And remember Buzzcocks tomorrow.

Things I have learned today

1) I am more manly than Richard Herring. Not only am I taller than him and definitely have bigger hands, but his blog today confesses to his lack of all interest in manly things, which roughly coincides with the things I do have an interest in. Sigh. I'm never going to be a princess.

2) Men are completely rubbish from a very early age, it makes them easy to love.

3) I am not a good hairdresser. Son one looks ok, son two now has a Take That era Robbie cut. Oops.

4) I LOVE this song: "Human" by The Killers. It was on the radio making me all warm and fuzzy, then Steve Wright helpfully announced that the song before was China Girls and the one after was Witchita Lineman - oh thanks, they're so obscure. If only all radios were DAB... So googling the words "are we human or are we dancer" to find out what it was, rewarded me with many, many blogs trying to answer that question. The basis seems to be "are we fallible or do we just dance through life" but I am quite sure that Brandon Flowers is trying to ascertain if he and his bandmates are in fact aliens from the planet Dance: born under the sign "vital", cold hands, travel around on knees, fond of train analogies.

Actually, I don't care. It's a top tune, it encapsulates everything I like in music into one song. Sounds kind of like good (Joan of Arc, for example) OMD, which isn't ok to admit to listening to (I do, sorry, I'm still in the 80s), but this is The Killers, I can listen to that in public and everything. I know fine well that as soon as my in-house personal critic gets in, I will be informed "it's shite", but for now, I shall bask in my song based happiness.

5) I HATE this song: "Build me up Buttercup" by The Foundations. It's vile, made more so by the fact that it gets churned out at "discos" and it's one of those tunes that everyone *has* to caterwaul along to. Ugh. It encapsulates everything I hate in music into one song.

6) In "Poetry in Motion" by Johnny Tillotson (that I also learned today, I thought it was by someone I'd heard of), motion is rhymed with locomotion, ocean, devotion and potion (but not emotion, which would have been my personal choice). Movement also rhymes with improvement. Not a song I'd ever listen to on purpose, but spectacular dedication to rhyme.

7) Saying "I don't like meat any more" actually means "please ply me with meat based lunches, I clearly don't know my own mind and if you just give me it, I'll eat it by mistake, won't notice and realise the error of my ways". Grr.

A little hyper moment

Marcus Brigstocke and Richard Herring were teammates on some panel show for Dave (the silliest named TV channel on air).

I will actually die if I miss this.

CNPS frustration

Sigh. I'm stuck on 31. It hasn't been very long, I think it was Thursday that I got 30, but I am being plagued by endless 32s and 33s.

I figure it shouldn't be too hard to find a 31. Many people have their birthday as the number of their private reg, so assuming birthdays are evenly distributed throughout the year, this should account for 7/365 (approximately 1 in 50) people. The population of the mid-Fife area is around 180,000, so around 3600 people in my area should have a birthday which is the 31st of something. If only 1% of them have a private plate with their birthday on it, that's 36 cars I should be seeing. And then there's all the ones that just have 31 as the reg that came with the car, or people have selected a private reg for the letters with random numbers, or they got it for their 31st birthday, or they have 31 as their lucky number. Or many other things.

As if this isn't bad enough, Richard Herring cheerfully posted on his blog that he is now redoing CNPS and he just breezed through 31 and 32.

I would hate him, but I'm fond of this picture, which keeps making me smile on account of him looking eminently shaggable, and thus I must forgive him for his callous (in an oblivious type of way) CNPSing. Incidentally, I think his hair is ace.

Blogging busy bee

Andrew Collins has been blogging a lot since I last looked. Typical, when I check feverishly (ish), there's nothing for years and years (ok, a few days) on end, then when I don't get round to it, he goes and blogs a lot (6 in a week, I can hardly talk. But I don't have readers like him now, do I? No. Huh).

I would like to add for anyone that ever sees CBeebies and knows the song about pets that's on Something Special and Tikkabilla that goes "and my dog does something something, and my cat she something and something and she... meows a lot" well, that's the tune that Andrew Collins "blogs a lot" to. In my head, not in real life. Well maybe he does, I don't know. He maybe sits and sings to himself "and I type and I write and I think and I blog... a lot".

A point? I don't know, my nose is dripping faster than I can keep up with tissues and it's exhausting me. I'm just feeling serendipitous because I finished my proposal, which is stupid of me as there was no serendipity, it was the result of relatively hard work and putting the effort in for once.

I think the point was that I ache to be able to write like Andrew Collins, just to be able to rattle off a flow of intelligence and not random ramblings. Maybe he spends all day editing and perfecting his blogs. But I doubt it. I should probably abbreviate his name to Mr C or something to save my fingers, but it's a nice name, I quite like writing it. Andrew Collins. Andrew Collins. It looks weird now.

A wish: I hope Richard Herring got plenty people for his show tonight.

Today's brain seepage

CNPS is going well, I'm on 19 now. Only 981 to go. It takes up a spectacularly large amount of my consciousness at the moment, I wonder how long this will last. At the moment I have fond memories of spotting most of the numbers, I can't see that I'll end up with 999 distinct memories. 17 was good, as it belongs to a neighbour and I knew that all I had to do was to return home and I'd see it. 18 I saw today and this evening, I am ashamed to say, I drove to a friend's house as her registration is a 19. However, she lives on a cul de sac and as I drove in, I realised that I would have to virtually drive up her driveway to see her car and that could potentially be really embarrassing. So, no 19 and I have a 20 lined up at a garage ready to be seen in its time. Grr. When I get to 51, I want it to be my car, so if I see a 50, I'll have to immediately stop and get out to look at mine before I see another one, being as how they're rather common. Or does it count that I can see the interior of the car?

Yes, ok, I am doing most of my spotting while driving. Stand by for some idiotic crash soon...

I am about to colour my hair. I have spent vast amounts of time and money trying to replicate my own colour because I am distinctly grey and I don't like it. I like it even less because my 41 year old brother has little or no grey, and my 68 year old mother has but a handful. I have been disguising mine since I was 23. After not dying it for a year or so whilst pregnant I had decided to leave it and just accept it, but I got fed up with everyone asking me if I'd had highlights. Yes, of course, white highlights are cool, are they not? The trouble with having dark brown hair is that is impossible to mimic. Just brown gives the impression of having coated your hair with brown shoe polish, yet anything with a non-flat colour is either virtually black, or reddish. I look anaemic with the black option, so I have no choice but to be kind of auburn. Cappuccino, I think it's called, by Garnier Nutrisse, is the closest I can find. Davina McCall uses it, so they lead me to believe, but they also tell me she uses the multi highlights, until you read the small print that says her hair is styled with natural extensions. Which I'm guessing is where the highlights are... I tried the highlights, I looked like a tiger. Not a good look.

The reason for the diaryesque nature at present is that I am reading Richard Herring's blog, dating back to the start in Nov 2002, which makes me think in a bloggy sort of manner. I am now in Jan 2003, not very far in, and it's really interesting. Like an autobiography but including the everyday thoughts that would never make it in a book. It's astonishing to read how someone as clever, funny and well liked as he can be so self doubting sometimes and it does also make the mind boggle when thinking of people that have such fame and attention when they are neither clever nor funny (or indeed talented). It does also hit home the vast differences between people that are in the public eye and people who aren't. Day to day, life may seem the same, but it's not. A blog is a classic example, I am writing this for me and for a handful of friends who may or may not read it, I can pretty much say anything and not worry much about who reads it. Someone who is famous doesn't have that luxury. And I don't think that really is a remotely good example of the differences at all, but it's an example and I'm sticking with it.

I have recently read autobiographies of Russell Brand, Jason Donovan and Richard Hammond (hmm, can you spot the criteria for my reading? *blush*) and the first two both strike home the fragility of fame and the fickleness of being adored. Different for each as Jason Donovan was a heart throb in the 80s, while Russell Brand was at the height of his adoration at the time of writing his book. Interestingly, Jason's book shows an entirely likeable side to him, whereas it's difficult to like Russell in his book. Richard Hammond on the other hand is entirely refreshing on the "I'm just me, I have a cool job" front and he does seem to be entirely unaffected by the fact that half the population of the world think he's gorgeous.

Final rambling thought: I must add David Mitchell to my list of great people. He's brilliant, I think I love him. Really.

Fickle, moi?

People there should be clones of

I'm feeling talkative. Or, look, I'm procrastinating again.

Anyway, I've been mentally compiling a list of people that I think are great, for various reasons, and I feel I want to write them down before that particular train of thought gets endless delays before cancellation. Obviously, each of these persons is unique, so cloning would be futile, but in a perfect world these people would all be my friends and we'd hang out together. Clones might be more willing...

Ian Rankin. He's incredibly nice, incredibly interesting, incredibly witty and really really grounded. And he supports Raith Rovers.

Jasper Fforde. A fellow sufferer of my birthday, this man is a genius and I LOOOOVE his books.

Marcus Brigstocke. The most attractive man on earth.

Richard Herring. Because he is Richard Herring.

Andrew Collins. This man is the only person who should ever be allowed to review films.

Jason Byrne, Bill Bailey, Russell Howard, Ross Noble, Jeremy Hardy and the above three. These people make me laugh and laugh and laugh.

Danny Wallace. You can't not love him.

Bernard Butler. Because he plays guitar like no other.


A little sexist, perhaps? I don't like women much. Men do most things better. Leave it at that.

CNPS 10, 11, 12 and 13 today!!

CNPS

Well, in true me-style, I bumbled around Richard Herring's site and found this.
(sorry, you have to read it, I don't have the verbal ability to reproduce it tonight - it's all about Consecutive Number Plate Spotting, or CNPS).

Today, as part of our staycation we went off to Blair Drummond Safari Park as a fun day out for all the family. More on that later...

Being on the motorway and all gave me an excellent opportunity to commence number plate spotting (I've always been a bit of a number plate nerd - I used to know where they all came from) and started looking for my 1. Not so easy. Many things became apparent, not least that there are very very few old style numberplates remaining. As I look at my antiquated heap of rattles and its 51 reg, I can understand why. Other things that became apparent however were:

• There are vast numbers of private reg. How come so many people have money to waste?
  
• There are some really cool older cars
• There are some really crap older cars that are on the road presumably by some deal the driver has with the road.
• Driving while checking the reg of every other car isn't all that safe. I demonstrated this by leaving the motorway by mistake in a contraflow.

Anyway, there was a sad lack of any registrations to be seen with the number 1 on the plate. As such, when I spotted the registration "LIONS 1" on a jeep in the safari park, I had a small fit of joy, did a celebratory dance and shouted "I'm having it! It so counts!" in full earshot of the birds of prey talk we had just vacated on account of the children misbehaving. Very dignified.

Initially, while walking across the car park, I jubilantly counted an 02, 03 and 04 before deciding that this was cheating and to concentrate on old style registrations only. Halfway home we passed an H1 XXX so I decided that this was for real, just in case LIONS 1 didn't count, so would have discounted the others anyway. At the same time, 1 ROT pulled up behind us, and as we pulled into home, I realised that our neighbour has A1 XXX. Stuck on 2 now, but having re-read the rules, I have decided that I am not an extreme player after all and I will now be counting new style numberplates, saying as how they only count for a maximum of 18 numbers (and that's if I'm still here after next Sept). It is also not advised to do when driving, which would be common sense for anyone with a brain, not so for I.

I am now itching for an excuse to go out and look round car parks and the likes for the next numbers. If I can count new ones I could be up to 9 by tomorrow. Goodness!

(Seriously, I am quite thrilled by this new hobby, I shall ignore the fact that RH wrote the thing referring to numberplates up to 52 (we're about to get 58) and think of it as "new").

Yeah, the safari park. Better than the zoo, but still distinctly underwhelming. I guess this is why under 3s get in free places, they get nothing out of them. Nice animals, close up to a baby owl being the highlight all round, damned expensive.

A-Z of today

A is for apple juice, starting off the day
B is for baking, making fairy cakes
C is for Coke, a serendipidous bottle found in the car
D is for dreary, the weather's grey again
E is for ear, my left one's rather sore
F is for fish, we saw them at the pet shop
G is for great gran, that's who Oliver's gone to see
H is for Herring, better at blogging than me
I is for icing, I just put some on the cakes
J is for J Sainsbury, visited earlier today
K is being silent, like in knife and knutsford
L is for lazy, like Sundays ought to be
M is for mother, being as what I am
N is for nausea, still present and unidentified
O is for oops, I've surely forgotten something
P is for proposal, to be worked upon tonight
Q is for quickly, the speed this last week passed at
R is for radio, paused and not by me
S is for Sunday, because that's the day it is
T is for tidying, what's always needing done
U is for untidying, what's always getting done
V is for vivacious, because it's a lovely word
X is for x-asperating, because it's a very that-some letter
Y is for yellow, the colour of these walls
Z is for zenith because I used that word this morning and there aren't many z's

Environmentally sheeplike

Well, because I have this tendency to believe pretty much anything a good comedian says, and to hold them in high regard for at least 45 minutes after seeing them, I automatically buy anything that is offered after the gig.

(Not including Richard Herring because I am STUPID and didn't go to the bar where he said he'd be and have the chance to SPEAK to him and buy his DVDs).

Mark Watson made a damned good impression, still lasting, and when he said "I am selling my books outside" off I trotted to buy his books. At this time, had they been books about his experiences watching paint dry, I probably would have bought them. He was utterly lovely and nice about my blatant queuejumping also, which was a bonus, although he doesn't seem like the type of bloke to say "no, evil queuejumper, get to the back and wait like the wench you are". Luckily, they seem quite good. I'm now reading the first one, "Crap at the Environment" which is so far very good. And funny, which is damned impressive for a book about environmental stuff.

A confession: my stance on Environmental issues was changed by Marcus Brigstocke last year; he was entirely convincing that maybe it wasn't all twaddle. And his lovely face is at the back of my mind when I do my lowly bits of goodliness, because well... "Yes, hello Marcus, lovely to meet you, I recycle most of my paper you know. Aren't I worthy of your friendship?"

And so, enjoying Mr Watson's views so far (and of course aware of any future fledgling friendships between us in Unlikely World), I visited http://actonco2.direct.gov.uk/index.html (no www. - very confusing) and discovered that I'm better than average and only slightly worse than I should be aiming for.

Luckily they had some advice for me to be better:

1) buy a new, better car.
Ummm. Yes. And pay for it how?
2) dry my washing outside.
I live in a flat. I don't use a tumble drier so would drying my washing in the car park actually benefit the environment?
3) unplug my digital radio when I'm not using it.
It's an alarm clock. Do I have to set another alarm to plug this one in prior to it waking me?

One day I hope to be mature enough not to base my actions/beliefs on the sayings of others, but in the meantime, intelligent and amusing* gentlemen can lead my way forward.



* ok, and attractive.

Comedy and life

It's that marvellous time of year again whereby comedians come to Edinburgh and make me laugh. I think that maybe this isn't their sole purpose, but that's beside the point.

This year we were to see: Jason Byrne, Mark Watson, Richard Herring and Bill Bailey. Jason Byrne we missed, because I am an idiot and got the venue wrong. Mark Watson is adorable, I want him as a pet. He is also extremely funny, clever and an excellent comedian. Bill Bailey is next week, I can't wait.

Richard Herring was simply marvellous, anyone who can should go and see him. Totally different and very, very funny, one of my favourite gigs so far of the last 6 years, thus rendering him hero #1.

That was not my most eloquent of reviews. Ah well, noone reads this anyway :-)