It had to happen. As I crossed the main road to Swindons shiney new library the first signs of urban decay have been left upon it in the form of a dark blue squiggle. Nigel woz ere. Well thanks, Nigel, but perhaps if you learned to read and get of bed in the mornings you could drop in and enjoy the ambience instead of wasting your money on spray paint. In fact, there's a section on art, and if you peruse the books contained therein (is my english too advanced for you?) you might discover how completely talentless you are as an artist.

Right. Got that off my chest. Now to pop upstairs and log on. The cubicles are busy so I dive on the first available PC... Tap in my password.... Wait for it to boot up.... Huh? Oh not again, the keyboard settings are wrong. Must be set to US - it usually is... Nope. Apparently I need a serbo-croat keyboard. Luckily the very attractive blonde lady two cubicles down is bored and giving her boyfriend grief, so he's going elsewhere....

Excuse me lady? Is this yours? I hand her the book on Mental Illness she left behind. Right, now I can log on. The guy to my right is suffering from terminal flu, and sniffs loudly every twenty seconds, coughing every minute. His mobile phone goes off every five minutes but luckily his answer is merely to tell the caller he's in Swindon Library. Must be an important guy. You can tell by the military surplus trousers.

There's a businesswoman busy trying to organise transport the other side. She is merciless, sparing the poor receptionist on the other end no compliments, nor being fobbed off with some petty excuse that first class coaches don't go to Mongolia. Apparently, so I gather, she's organising one of those corporate team building exercises. Perhaps she could try delegating and building a team that way, giving them vital experience in organisation and bureaucratic obstacles that lifting plastic barrels over an assault course doesn't provide. Unless she works for Plasto-Barrel Direc, proudly delivering plastic barrels where no-one has delivered before.

Oh dear, someone's fallen down the stairs... Amazing what mobile phones do to peoples sense of balance.

And finally, to cap it all, AM turns up and begins a loud conversation with somebody else about the fashion merit of my military surplus trousers. Oh no. Its a fashion disaster.... Maybe I should reinvent my image? Or maybe tell AM what I think of his geriatric chic?

Withdrawal of the Week

The Irish have withdrawn pork products. Its big news of course, and as usual, everyones frightened of buying pork for fear they're going to blow up if they eat it. Always the same. I remember a big scare about beef some years back and that burgers were being considered for issue to British spies in case of capture. What was the point of not eating burgers? If I was going to drop dead from some horrible disease spread by infected beef products, I'd already got it. So now pork is cheap, I'm off down the supermarket for a game of russian roulette. Boy, do I live dangerously...