A quick entry for today so that you don't feel conned/forget about me when, as is inevitable, you come daily to my site only to be fobbed off with some nonsense that's, like, so last week. Entries written on a Sunday should no doubt be filled with tales of crazy antics, drunken derring-do and hilarious tableaux. If that's what you're after, go to Laura's blog which is so much better than this one it's not funny.

Karaoke on Friday helped me get in touch with my inner motherfuckin' gangsta, yo. Sounding, apparently, like Tim from Pet Shop Boys rip-offs (and I mean that in the best way possible) Baxendale, I performed two classic hip hop hits, and my RIGHTEOUS BLACK ANGER is all too evident in this picture. Check out the teeth! You can tell I'm British...

Saturday saw my eighth attendance of the season at an AFC Wimbledon game. After coveting (and I mean seriously - buying shinpads this week has obviously made me into some kind of athletic hero wannabe) about three-quarters of the available merchandise, and settling for a £1 car-window sticker due to precarious finances, I watched a completely comprehensive and happy-making 5-0 thrashing of minnows Westfield FC. I was intending to find out where Westfield actually is, but that might get in the way of my smug, victory-addled complacency.

And then today. Well, I have been pottering about the interweb in my dressing gown, occasionally being mistaken for an escaped Old Person. I am now going over to my parents to have a bath and some free lunch. Who says this blog isn't as unmissable as Laura's? Huh? Huh?