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According to a card posted in my local newsagent’s window, Andrew McCarthy has now taken up a new career doing high pressure cleaning with jets of water. Good luck to you, old chap.

I’m not going to comment on this piece except to say that I’m horrified. Here’s a quote from the it:

“The US came out of [World War Two] with a deep distrust of European wisdom and European advice. No matter how much older and wiser they claimed to be, they hadn’t managed to do what we had ourselves: unite a huge area under a single government and live without war. We fought our Civil War, but that was 140 years ago and we’ve mastered living together ever since. And it took our meddling and our military occupation to make them live together without war.”

It’s very funny. I think. Or it’s really mean. And gross. Or funny. Or gross. I can’t decide.

Today I got the coolest e-mail from Douglas Rushkoff. Douglas Rushkoff is cool. I like Douglas Rushkoff. Douglas Rushkoff smokes. I want to make Douglas Rushkoff a new website. I bet other people would help.

Every time I apply for a job at the BBC, I think it will take an hour to fill in the horrible online application form, and it always takes me nearly four. And then even though I get lots of interviews, I never get the bloody jobs.

From a typo made in an AIM message with Matt Jones that mispelled ‘quantum’ as ‘quantuum’ we came up with a concept called the ‘quantinuum’ – a contraction of quantum and continuum. I thought up a definition on the spot for a laugh, “a continuum of uncollapsed possibility”. So then I did a search on Google, only to discover that it’s a word mentioned in several places on the web already – particularly in an article called Holic Principle and the relations between Physics data. As a super-intelligent Austin Powers might say, “Quantum topological invariance, baby!”

Is it the end of the line for Black Holes?

• New Theories Dispute the Existence of Black Holes

The last time I wrote something actually amusing was about two years ago – except of course it isn’t funny any more because the world’s changed so dramatically. If written today, the same post would read, “According to Evhead, Jason is wearing a cool t-shirt with a body tag on the front and an end body tag on the back (if this means anything to you it means that you are a victim of the dot-com crash and are currently unemployable).”

A couple of weeks ago I got an e-mail from an old friend at Time Out. She was looking desperately for stories of ‘dirty sex’. Not sexy dirty, you understand, but dirty dirty. I responded rather half-heartedly with a fairly tame story from my past, and chucked her the names of a few people who I thought might be better suited.

Five minutes later and there’s a ping in my inbox – she’s keen on my story, but needs more dirt. So I go into more detail. And then still more detail. Until I finally I’ve described every excruciating facet of the experience – every smear, smudge and slippery sweaty edge has been depicted in full technicolour horror.

Next time you’re meandering through a copy of “London’s Living Guide” and you come across a page full of gross-out sex-horror, pause for a moment. I’ll give a small prize to the first person to guess which one is mine…

More misheard lyrics: Destiny’s Child: Independent Woman, courtesy of that nut at rathergood.com. In person Joel is one of the nicest, most unassuming people you could ever meet. He’s really polite and sweet. He looks like he’s on some kind of hallucinogen though. All the time.