George Best
I wouldn't normally kick a man when he's down, especially when it's pretty clear he's never going to get back up again, but there is something a little unseemly about the will-he-won't-he death-bed sweepstake taking place at Cromwell Hospital this week. So carefully nuanced are the progress reports (Best 'very close to death', Best on 'the brink of death', Best 'walking towards the Reaper right now') that you may be forgiven for thinking someone nice was dying. I do hope someone steps forward, in the next few days, as the rose-tinted tributes come pouring in, to remind us what the man was really like.

Highgate Studios Café
If there is a more hateful corner of our planet, I have yet to find it. What is it with this place? If it isn't the moronic cockney banter of the staff who run it, (Lovely jubbly this you twat), it's the whole Kids from Fame vibe given off by the assorted F and C words who allow themselves to be fleeced there every day. One of these days, someone will start body popping in the queue and not one of these fuckers will bat an eyelid. Apparently there is a call centre in the building, and if ever a group of people served as a warning to the perils of not paying attention in school this is it. Every time I go there, something inside me dies.

Thought for the day
Going to work on the Thameslink isn't, let's face it, the most natural subject for a blog, however many tagents I allow myself. You would certainly have trouble selling that one in to the bank manager, no matter how eye-catching the pie charts or neatly typed the business plan. By anyone's standards, my journey in to work is short, so the window, even when it opens, opens briefly. Still, I will see what I can do. This morning, for instance, I came in half way through a conversation which sounded like it might go somewhere but the train pulled into my station and I had to get off. Oh well. If you think there's more to a joke than the punchline, you know where to come. Tomorrow on the Thameslink: someone cranks their iPod upto 7.

Marriage Proposals (Part 2)
‘My fiancee and I met on the Internet. We have quickly grown close although we still have yet to meet face to face. One night we were in a chat room just like we were almost every night, when I typed to her, "Would you like to marry me?" She types back, "uhhh...yeah ok, sure :)" I typed back, “You realize I'm serious, don't you?” That's when it first hit her I really was asking her to marry me. So she gives an enthusiastic YES!!! About a week later she received her engagement ring in the mail.’

Marriage Proposals (Part 1)
‘I was in a bad mood and asked him when he was going to propose to me. He said "Do you know, you can ask me?" So I said "Fine then, will you marry me?" He said "maybe." Three months later I was in a bad mood again, and we argued about children, and I guess I convinced him that we could handle it, because he started having a coughing fit, and choked in my ear "Yes, I will marry you.”’

A combined global audience of zero
If someone asked me to count on the fingers of both hands the number of people I think may chance upon my blog, I would still have enough fingers spare to flick the Vs at two people simultaneously and have several cigarettes on the go. How would you even find me? But someone always does.

Things I wish I’d said or Get in the hole!
On the train, someone says what we really need on TV is a Sex in the City for men. I think, but there already has been a Sex in the City for men. It was called Seinfeld. Meanwhile, in the newspaper, the headline: Woman admits trying to open plane door to smoke. Elsewhere, work is due to start on "8 golf courses and 60,000 new homes” in Alham de Murcia in southern Spain to cater for UK residents looking to buy abroad. The current population is 17,000. Does anyone mind if I swear in here? My gift to the golfing ex-pats: consiga en el agujero.