A Few Blogettes For The Weekend

Writers of fiction should avoid reading any background to the Prince Harry rumpus.
Yesterday's Guardian reported that the Prince Harry set includes:

"Davina Duckworth-Chad, known as "Deb on the Web", after Country Life featured her on the internet."

Yes, you COULD make it up but you wouldn't expect real life to trump you.

By the way, I wonder if she's any relation to the Duckworths of Coronation Street? Vera has long claimed kinship with the Queen.

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Much babbling in the blogosphere of late about various Blog awards. Here at Lupin Towers we've never been too keen on competitions since we were unfairly prevented from winning the County Cross-Country Championships by the 119 people in front of us. And the problem with competitions outside the sporting sphere is that you're never comparing like with like. We each approach blogging in a different way and two totally different blogs can be equally good in their way.
Of course, if I ever get nominated for anything you can expect me to drop this line of argument quicker than an Essex girl drops her knickers.

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Devestating news for Green Wing fans from James and the Blue Cat blog. The next series is unlikely to be broadcast before February 2006. By then, we'll have had to endure about three more series of Little Fucking Britain, My Dad's The So Unfunny Prime Minister, My Family The Predictable Comic Assholes, and the 17th relaunch of French and Saunders, preferably on a space probe to Titan.
So get your fingers out Talkback and Channel Four. I know it's about six hours of television but we're not asking you to build London's Olympic Stadium or a 20 mile extension to the Bakerloo line. Oh and that promised DVD of Series 1 would be nice if you could drag yourselves away from the Groucho Club and the long lunches at The Ivy.

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Never mind all that stuff about how many extra years you'll have in this vale of tears if you stop smoking - providing you don't get knocked down by a bus or die of a non-smoking-related disease.
I've worked out that if I record Coronation Street and then fast forward the commercials I''ll have gained over 10 extra days over the next ten years. That's a whole ten extra days to sit around smoking and listening to Woman's Hour or Midweek with Libby Purves while I try to think of something to write in this fucking blog.