So with that out of the way, let’s see what I’ve got to get off my chest this week. Those who know me well are aware I spend most weekends sleeping. I don’t know why I’ve grown so accustomed to resting for long periods of time on my mattress, I just do. Any way, I did crawl out at about midday (!) to watch T4 on Channel 4, and an episode of Britney & Kevin: Chaotic (or whatever it’s called) was on. Anyone seen this fly-on-the-wall documentary of Britney Spears and her insipid, sponging husband? I watched a bit last week, completely horrified at the way she really talks with that southern, trailer park trash twang but then composes herself in front of the camera for an interview, speaking articulately while thrusting her implants out and arching her back. He, on the other hand, is just repulsively smug. Tosser.

Any way, yesterday’s episode was just so boring. Half of it was in night vision (usually is) and full of close-ups of their faces peering into the camera lense, and the remaining half was Britney talking utter nonsense. Personally I was more annoyed with her miming her entire concert performance…and people paid to see her? And her wig was really rank too!

My next confession is probably worse – I didn’t budge from the sofa and watched a reality show on Rachel Stevens. What is wrong with me?! She’s another one who mimes all the time. Really don’t understand the popularity with her and considering she doesn’t sell that many records, how does she afford a plush flat somewhere in West Hampstead and a sports car?

You know, no editorial would be complete without a moan about public transport. Everyone who travels on the London Underground felt the wrath of the Northern or 'misery line when it shut down last week. This meant more people squeezing onto the tubes to find alternative ways to get to work. Great! Not only did I get frizzy hair and hot and bothered, but I had to endure a lot of selfish passengers who pushed me out of the way when I was standing near the edge of the platform to get onto an already crowded train. Sweetheart, you're no size 10 - who are you trying to kid here?! I didn't get home till way past 7.30 on Friday night because I had to miss two trains that were impossible to get on. Which reminds me...

I hate people who spread themselves about on train seats and are too inconsiderate to perhaps move up one seat closer to the window so it will make it easier for a new passenger to perch on the end (if that makes sense).  No, one morning last week, there were 5 seats out of 6 occupied and the middle seat was empty so I ummed and aahed about taking it and then though, "Sod it, I've paid my fare!" and I barged through, making them all shift their legs in to the sound of a few tuts. Honestly, some people!  The other passengers were too polite to go for the empty seat and instead decided to stand squished into other people's armpits. Nice. 

Hungo is off to New Zealand in a fortnight. On his own. No, really. Well he won’t be on his own when he gets there but he will be on the plane! Poor Hungo. Hope the in-flight entertainment is alright. And the food.

Here’s a silly photo of him to cheer all of us up. I think he mentioned going to some X-FM gig at Brixton Academy on Saturday night – not a clue about about the line-up and not a care either, considering his only vice was to get (in his own words) “totally lashed”. Why am I telling you this? I dunno…helps fill up the page a bit. Hungo, do water that poor cactus or it’ll be its picture on next week’s editorial instead of yours.

I do have something positive to say, by the way. Two words – Charlie Connelly. I suggest you check out his website and read his books. His latest one is going to be based on Elvis impersonators from around the world, which so far has had him travelling to Uzbekistan to sing with the country’s top popstar and Canada’s own king of the clergymen, Elvis Priestley. Arf! OK, that's me out for this week. I did good, Hungo?

Read previous editorials:

2005
2004