Time Travel!

The clocks went forward an hour. Why do they have to do that without giving me the advanced warning I so deserve? So there I was, pottering about on Sunday waiting for 3pm to roll around, and the TV decides to tell me that it's already quarter to fucking 4. Bastard! Thus begins what I like to call "The Rush". The Rush involves me running around, searching for clothing and keys and spouting obscenities through gritted teeth. Very similar to Prince Philip if he were to get lost in Asda while looking for the toilets.

The Captain C*smic and the Daves audition is on Tuesday. We've been practising every day for the past week, and we've had to drop a couple of songs (bye bye, Bitches) in an attempt to win the judges over. In order to fill the gaps we've had to fashion some new material out of cardboard and glue. Thus, Judge Reinhold was born. The song, I mean. The actual Judge Reinhold has been around for a while now, acting in films, saving the world and feeding his sidekick.

Andy, sorry to hear about your friend Simon.