Sometimes I get the impression that the Liverpool Echo is struggling to fill its pages. From the Friday edition of the paper comes this gem:-
Southport’s Christmas street decorations are to feature coloured lights for the first time in more than 30 years. Around 85 trees on Lord Street will be lit with one colour in sequence, in red, blue, yellow, green and white.
I’m sure someone will find it interesting.
Doctor Who is coming back to BBC One, scripted by none other than Russell T Davies, creator of Queer as Folk
I was always suspicious of that rainbow scarf. 
Remember that witty retort I came up with a while back? I thought it was so clever and original until Sunday afternoon, when I heard it on The Weekenders on the Disney Channel.
I now need to put the best possible gloss on this. Um… great minds think alike?
Right, I’m now living in the new house, but the rest of my family, erm… isn’t. Which means that for the next two or three nights I get to live a hedonistic single man’s lifestyle. Or I could, if most of my belongings weren’t still in boxes, unable to be unpacked because my bedroom is without furniture. D’oh.
The intermittent internet access prompted by the house move meant the news that Section 28 has been abolished slipped past my radar undetected last week. Not unexpected, perhaps, but great news nonetheless.
I suppose the next thing on the cards is the marriage… sorry, "civil partnerships" debate. Plenty of scope for ignorant, hate-filled rhetoric from out-of-touch politicians there then. Ms Widdecombe, your podium is over there…
My cat had been missing for the last couple of days. Deep down I knew that something had happened to him, but I still held out hope that. Until last night, when a neighbour came by to tell us that she’d seen him get hit by a taxi. Apparently he’d run off into some nearby undergrowth, but he must have been badly injured, because later she found his body nearby. We’d owned him for just under two years.
We buried him in the back garden of our house this morning. The level of grief I’ve displayed has surprised even myself. People who’ve never owned a pet cannot understand the ability an animal has to work its way into your affections. I don’t think I was this upset when any of my (human) relatives died 
Well, I see those anti-American lefties at the BBC are at it again. If those vile Guardianistas are to be believed, there’s a so-called hurricane "pounding" the US coast.
I’ve been watching Fair and Balanced Fox News and I know that this is all part of glorious leader Bush’s flypaper strategy to lure the hurricanes out of hiding. Everything is fine, nothing is going wrong. President Bush is a modern-day George Washington.
Of course, you wouldn’t know that from watching the Baghdad Broadcasting Corporation (ho ho! That gets funnier every time I say it!)
Andrew Gilligan should be privatised, or something.
Spent tonight helping kid sister with her English homework. She’s studying A Christmas Carol, which, according to her teacher, is a didactic novel about the parsimonious Ebeneezer Scrooge.
Didactic? Parsimonious? Are these just words English teachers use to make themselves sound more intelligent than us mere mortals? If so, then it’s working, because I (no intellectual slouch, I might add) had to look both words up.
I feel so stupid, or should I say Benighted?
Tonight, Digiguide recommends to me:-
19:00 Toonami X-Men Evolution
19:00 Sky One The Simpsons
19:00 Sky One Mix Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
19:00 BBC7 I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue
19:10 BBC Four Great Railway Journeys
19:30 Challenge? Knightmare
19:30 Sky One The Simpsons
19:30 Ftn Dilbert
…now all I need are five digiboxes to watch them on.
The more I stare at that cartoon drawing of Seb, the more creepy it looks. Anyone in need of a ready-made Hallowe’en mask can just print that page out and use it to psychologically damage children.
Finally, after multiple complications and postponements, we move house next week. While I’m pleased to be moving from the dumpy part of town to a nice area, I also feel rather sad. The house we’re moving into belonged to my cousin, who died earlier this year after a long battle with cancer. All things considered, I’d prefer to have her back rather than a new house.
In other news, John Ritter has died less than a week after I mentioned him on this weblog. Does this mean there’s a Curse of Rhmeuk? Er, probably not. Still depressing, though.
I spent the morning in town, browsing in Central Library. I took the number 100 bus back to my house. I made myself a sandwich, switched on the computer and turned on the radio for background music. The 2pm news bulletin began with a breathless BBC Radio Merseyside newsreader, announcing that a few minutes ago a plane had crashed into the World Trade Centre in New York.
There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said by people far more eloquent than me. All I can suggest is that, if you haven’t already, just take a moment to remember and reflect. Trust me, you’ll feel better for it.
They’re pelting David Blaine’s box with eggs, shining laser pointers at his face and, perhaps worst of all, a burger van parked underneath him is tempting him with delicious food aromas.
Normally I wouldn’t laugh at this type of behaviour. But I’ll make an exception because… well, it’s David Blaine!
Fred “God hates Fags” Phelps, the man famous for picketing funeral of people who have died of AIDS and the Matthew Shepard funeral, arrived with his little group to protest the first day of school at Harvey Milk High School.
— This is why I don’t bother with religion any more.
Even if the Church as a whole isn’t going to accept gay people as Christians, I’d feel better if some high-ranking Church figure somewhere would speak out and condemn Phelps for his hatemongering. But they don’t; they just sit and ponder why they’re becoming irrelevant to modern society.
I’m angry, can you tell?
Rob Baldwin is blogging in his underwear.
Claim: John Ritter’s testicles were briefly visible in an episode of Three’s Company.
Status: Undetermined.
— I think Snopes is starting to scrape the Urban Legend barrel.