I shall cowrite with myself.

I arrived at work to find two garters and the new Miss Kittin album waiting for me. Sometimes this job isn't so bad.

Nighty Night may allegedly be the darkest sitcom ever and all that rot, but in fact it's just like one of those substandard sitcoms spun off from The Fast Show, except spun off from Jam instead. It wasn't even the best digital-to-BB2 transfer this week to feature Julia Davis; I much preferred the hilarious misadventures of Britain's most loveable neo-Nazi in The Alan Clark Diaries.
In spite of my love for Lilith (and I *love* Lilith), this week's Frasier seemed like a bad pastiche of the series. Certainly the last time I shall attempt to watch this once-unmissable programme. Black Books, on the other hand, was even better than last week's; I just prefer Bernard on turbocharged freak-out benders than the verge of death, I think.

A Fairly Honourable Defeat is finished; of the Iris Murdoch I've read I think this is the one I'd recommend to the most people and with the fewest reservations, daft names aside. It addresses a matter I consider absolutely paramount, the importance of honesty in human relationships, in a manner of which I approve, without ever lapsing into mere polemic.

I note that the new Graham Coxon single's almost passable as pop music. Good job that he's only releasing it on limited 7", then - otherwise he might actually sell some records and clearly that would never do!
Moronic little indie schlub.

(no subject)

Well, our net connection's spasming like an electrocuted epileptic so I'm writing a little rant with no idea when it'll be posted. The subject? Islington Council. Now, my council tax has actually gone down slightly, their fire safety people have stopped d1cking around with my flat and I'm pretty much over their (undemocratic, unjustifiable) closure of the Arthur Simpson Library. But their booklet 'Your Council Your Budget Your Choice' makes me want to use their bones for s3xtoys. Not least because said budget clearly didn't extent to commas.
The entire leaflet is a waste of money. Specifically, the leaflet is a waste of my money, and that of my friends who live in Islington; I don't really care what they do with anyone else's. That's money that could have been used to keep my damn library open, b1tches. The leaflet is 48 pages of moderate-quality paper, yet keeps directing people to the website for more details. Well, why not just send out one sheet of cheap paper and leave everything else online? Everyone in the borough can join the libraries. The libraries have free Internet. Thus anyone in the borough can read this dreck online should they wish. And it is dreck.
"We want to physically transform Islington. We will start by transforming the A1 highway, changing the way both the road and its pavements look, feel and are used."
What, are you going to turn it into a Futurama-style travel tube? If so, yes, I'm interested. But you're not, are you? You're going to plant a few half-@rsed windowboxes and fiddle with some traffic light phasing, aren't you?
The rest of it is a similar farrago of meaningless visionstatementese.