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Inspired by a recent viewing of Unbreakable and a really frustrating e-mail exchange in which intention and meaning passed like ships in the night comes a complaining rant from the pen of your author: “I thought this bright new future was supposed to be one where we were all super-heroes. I don’t want to be a side-kick. I’ve never wanted to be a side-kick – I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to prove I’m good enough to be a super-hero of my own! If the choice is side-kick or super-villian, I know which road I’d take… At least people take super-villains seriously…”

Stage One: Yesterday I rang up BTOpenworld – who are cross with me because I use the internet improperly. My plan? Get broadband ADSL. Then no one shouts at me any more. Plus I get to do big downloady things. Except there’s a hell of a lot of people telling me that it’s trickier than it looks… More information as I have it…

After I went to Los Angeles for the first time, Kerry – my West Coast correspondent – sent me a tape of songs to listen to. It was a really odd selection of tunes – but most of them I’m still listening to. One song has spread like wildfire – wherever I play it people want to know wht it is – people at work even hum it now whenever it comes on. The song is ‘Mambo Italiano’ by Rosemary Clooney, who died on Saturday aged 74.

Over at Slate at the moment is a fascinating article about The Pledge of Allegiance: In fact, the founders opposed the institutionalization of religion. They kept the Constitution free of references to God. The document mentions religion only to guarantee that godly belief would never be used as a qualification for holding officeóa departure from many existing state constitutions. That the founders made erecting a church-state wall their first priority when they added the Bill of Rights to the Constitution reveals the importance they placed on maintaining what Isaac Kramnick and R. Laurence Moore have called a “godless Constitution.”

This morning’s gentle hang-over has been eased by a lie-in and an ice-cold coke. But more serious hangover sufferers this morning should consider the cures at hairytongue.com – particular favourites include placing ice-packs on your nipples, listen to pounding music and then running to the loo for a number two, giving your grandfather crack and then eating him, and eating a microwaved melange of rice krispies, milk, cheese and chilli powder…

Just been to a big gay party. Am drunk. Nice people were there. Was taken by particularly nice person. A couple of people hit on me and everyone else was thinking about it, I reckon. Am golden god. Am also drunk. Lewisham is weird. Huge positive vibes to everyone at said party. Particularly James for taking me to said party. And to Dan and Tony, who I’ll probably never meet again.

Without the aid of Kung-Tunes you would not have known that

I can’t believe my life has come to this – bragging about knowing Matt Jones to my own goddam cult. I feel all mucky and corrupt. Ah – and I see the backlash has begun. Soon all the world will move at the speed of blog…

So I got an e-mail from my ISP today – and boy are they stroppy with me. Apparently on some recent weekends, I’ve been connected to the internet for twelve hours in a day. Apparently I have to learn how to “use the internet more effectively” or they’ll cut me off. I hate them.

Sometime in the last few weeks, someone did a search on this site for you’re shit in bed, which I would like to say narrows it down a bit, but can’t.