Reality bites...

A final 'collating' session on this magazine project. In the absence of the youths who've written and illustrated the thing, ended up, supervised by an artist who knows about such matters, crafting some additional bits and pieces out of plasticine, which was great fun. I also managed not to tred it into the school's carpet. The rooms we were using are being used by some youth groups during the day, and they were, bizarrely, scattered with parts of a minibus.
Got home in time for Big Brother. Thank f*ck it's the final week. Then we can get stuck in to X-Factor, which returns on Saturday. Maybe television companies should settle on 15 reality television 'stars' at the beginning of each year and make that roster of 'talent' do the lot. It would be nice to see how annoying little trollop Nikki coped in front of Simon Cowell after delivering a power-ballad. Would Glyn and Imogen sing in their native tongue? Or belt out Manics or Super Furry songs? Would Cowell dare tell Leah that the song she had chosen was bigger than her? Would Louie Walsh get it on with Richard? These are the important questions. After that they could all go on the next series of The Apprentice, following in the ultra-successful footsteps of Michelle Dewberry, currently on 'gardening leave' (it's a good job old Sugarchops did give The Badger a job too) while she contemplates pregnancy and her conversion to Islam (c'mon Michelle, you could broker world peace when you've had the nipper). Anyway, Aisleyne to win BB and then replace Kofi Annan as UN Secretary General. The planet could do worse.

Listening: Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope