If I was a SMALL HELPER MONKEY (called Mojo), that is what I would ask you to do. Why? because I am having writer's block. It is frightening. My thesis is due on Friday and there ain't really nothing doing.

Instead, I have been amusing myself with my new camera. It is very beautiful, and has ten times optical zoom. I have been taping myself walking around the house and photgraphing the milk spillages on the table.

I am a ball of edgy stress. I tell my woes to anyone who will listen. I am a tiresome hindrance, and possibly a minor MENACE TO SOCIETY. I am also what is technically known as "a bore" and I believe I may have forgotten how to swim as several fruitless days have passed without me getting into the pool.

TIME FOR A LUNCH ANECDOTE HA HA HA

I had lunch with Ciarán the other day and fancied a bit of the "vegetarian option". It was described by the dinner ladies in the canteen as "honey roasted vegetables on a bed of cous-cous". It was in fact a large, cheap plate of slop drowning in "honey sauce" which was entirely inedible. One bite and I retched: no joke. While contemplating what tone of voice I would take whilst complaining about the "food", Ciarán suggested that I mould my food into the shape of a swastika with clever fork action and then bring it back and say, "This is a very offensive meal to my people and therefore I cannot eat it". I thought it was very funny (in fact the tears poured down my face as I stood bent double, sort of screaming and coughing out our little joke) but the dinner ladies did not. LOOK I CAN'T HELP IT IF I GOT A FREE EDUCATION. My father hasn't been in full time employment for eleven years, you know. I ain't got no Newbridge cutlery up my bottom! No siree! (Although I may have a hammer.)

Well.

Shelley's boyfriend on Coronation Street is certainly turning out to be one nasty bugger, eh?