Scone free...

John Prescott suffered from bulemia? That takes the big, chocolate-coated sugary calorific biscuit, that does. He's had some of the symptoms with none of the vomiting, from the look of him. Poor John. Someone was telling me about John when he went to an event at a Hull school last year and they'd laid on hot buttered scones as refreshment. John ate one, commented on how great they were and then ate another three as people stared on gobsmacked at his impressive intake. Then, scones scoffed, it was time to depart - as he left the school he swung by the kitchen. Everyone thought he was going to congratulate the kitchen staff for their fine baking but no, he came trotting out seconds later with a carrier bag full of scones. "To eat on the train!" he shouted as he squeezed out the school doors. What a guy. A fine ambassador for Hull and its many chubby folk.

Listening: Portishead - Three, The Last Shadow Puppets - The Age of the Understatement

More jalapeños...

Today's highlight was an outing to get some Mexican food. A table for six and lots of burritos flying around. Splendid. This weekend there's been further progress on the boxes front and various odds and sods stored haphazardly in the garage. Yes, a garage. Don't get the wrong idea - the garage is almost as big as, if not bigger than, the property we're now living in. We're using the garage as a sort of glorified dustbin while our other glorified dustbin, the car, remains parked on the wrong side of the up-and-over door.

Did some work on one of two new plays. Had to - there's a meeting looming and still not much of a plot. Or there wasn't. Now there is. Sort of. I also headed off and bought a new domain name relating to this play with a bit of a plot's title. Which, given it's a working title and a script is still an abstract notion, may well prove to be a fiver wasted. This purchase was prompted by the stumbled across knowledge that On A Shout's .co.uk and .com versions were parked back in December. Just a coincidence, I'm sure. But I like my working title, which is four words long. And the .co.uk of it now belongs to me. My vanity knows no bounds.

I am watching Mark Lawson Talks To... on the frankly superb and lifestyle-changing BBC iPlayer. I've been aware of Lawson's many ticks for quite some time but this show's two static cameras approach (no shot-reverse shot noddy shenanigans here, it's all very commendably anti-fake magic of TV) to recording the interview seems to exacerbate Lawson's twitchiness and blinking. And what is it with his left hand? Why does he keep curling up his fingers and staring at his finger ends? Wouldn't it be better if he went and bought himself some nail clippers and shed whatever it is that's bothering him/me/possibly you?

Reading: Norma Farnes - Spike: An Intimate Memoir

TV dinners...

11.20 BBC Four on BBC Two: Ready Meals Documentary examining why ready-prepared meals have become increasingly popular.


It's a forty minute programme. As I'm really, really busy I have much more important things to do than waste my time watching telly. Such as popping a ready-prepared meal in the microwave.

Dressed to impress...

Last night we went to the recently revamped Raj Pavilion (a Tandoori restaurant), which, having more than trebled in size, is now one of Hull's largest eateries and is proving very popular. Having not thought it through, my attire for the evening perfectly matched that of the staff, which was, frankly, rather disturbing and a tad embarrassing - I kept feeling as if I should be taking orders or something. And despite my coincidental efforts to blend in with my surroundings they didn't even offer me a staff discount. Food was plentiful and lovely. Mmmmm.

Watching: World Professional Darts Championship / Louis Theroux: Behind Bars. Reading: Tony Hannan - Being Eddie Waring.

Food glorious food...

Time was when, round here, all you could eat was a piece of stinking haddock. Yet all that changed on Thursday, with the inaugural Hull Global Food Fest, a gathering of marquees and restaurateurs and chefs. Now, for three days, you can buy olives and waffles and all manner of salami and sniff and sample stuff cooked on the main stage. It is, despite this whole venture being repeated in other cities in the country in an effort to make every place a facsimile of everywhere else, a very good event and the combination of hot weather and the chance to mutter abuse at James Martin has certainly brought out the crowds. Naturally, this wouldn't be a blog post from me if I didn't express a couple of caveats. The event is being broadcast on Hull's oft-lambasted big screen. Which would be fine if the actual main stage goings on were not happening immediately beneath the big screen, thus rendering such an exercise utterly pointless. Now food and hygiene go hand in hand and I can see a reason for the council wanting the streets around and about the Global Food Fest to be clean enough to eat off. But it struck me as a trifle odd that, when the biggest gathering of folk to have hit the city centre since Christmas was strolling up and down, purchasing jerk chicken and Ostrich meat, a street-sweeping truck arrived to force everyone out of the way.