Sortapundit Caption Contest

Long overdue, it's time to announce the winner of the Sortapundit Caption Contest. Despite the low turnout it was a tough choice, but...

Gold Medal

McGehee - "Your Jedi mind tricks do not work on me. I will keep Solo in carbonite to decorate my mother's basement."

Silver Medal

Jay Tea - "You'd be smug, too, if you could see below the frame. I'm not wearing pants..."

Bronze Medal

Jay Tea - "You're using me for a caption contest? RACIST!"

Pushed From A Speeding Train With His Tongue Tied To His Balls Medal

Content Free - You don't have the readership of hermaprhodite porn written in ancient Coptic.

Damn

When I was about 5 years old I ran into a wall and broke my arm. A few years later I wedged my head into the sharp edge of a piece of sheet metal. Around the same time I almost scalped myself on a towel hook while running naked around the kitchen (there's still a 2 inch scar right here, can ya see it?). When I was in secondary school I broke a thumb in a fight by having it bent back until it came within a knat's dick away from touching my wrist. The next day I did it again - with the other thumb.

All these things I took stoically, with not more than a whimper (OK, maybe I screamed just a little when I broke my arm. Hey, I was 5. Lay off.)

So why when 5 minutes ago I got a paper cut on my left hand did I faint embarrassingly into a bag full of empty bottles?

Damned Fake British Bloggers

Tim Worstall has a roundup of so-called British bloggers (via Instapundit). I renounce these liars and charlatans. I am the only true British Blogger. It's true. That Norm guy from Normblog doesn't really teach at the university down the road from my old campus (you know, the good one). It's all a lie. He's really a plump, wrinkly old washerwoman from Fez, Morocco. I can prove it, if you'll just grab a coffee while I fire up Photoshop. And, uh, learn how to use it.

Well, I Can't Do Any Worse Than Last Year...

It's time for the obligatory Oscars prediction post. I didn't do too well last year, but I've actually seen a few of the films this time around so I might have a bit more luck.

I can't be bothered to give any real reasons for my picks, but I can guarantee - guarantee! - that they're all locks. Locks! I tell ya.

Actor in a leading role

Johnny Depp (though, for what it's worth DiCaprio went up a notch on my respect scale. He's now on what I like to call 'notch 1'.

Actor in a supporting role

Morgan Freeman, if only for the fact that he deserved the nod for Shawshank in '94. If it were up to me he'd be nominated for his every film. Yes, even the Big Bounce... OK, I take it back. Quit spittin' at me.

Actress in a leading role

Hilary Swank - because she just... won't... stop until she gets it. She's like the frickin' Terminator.

Actress in a supporting role

Cate Blanchett - annoying, but you have to give her something for all those hours with her voice coach.

Animated Feature Film

The Incredibles - to be honest I haven't seen it, but the word on the street - and when I say 'word on the street' I mean all the 8-year old kids I know - it, like, totally kicks ass, dude.

Cinematography

The Aviator - my eyes looked like dinner plates after the bi-plane stunt scenes. It's beautifully shot.

Directing

Million Dollar Baby

Best Picture

The Aviator



And now, watch me swing and miss on every pick.

Goodfella

As many of you know, I read electricity meters for a living. I walk around suburban streets in my big red jacket and chat to folks all day, and I love every minute of it. Apart from the awful salary its a fantastic job. I speak to my boss about once a week and I can set my own hours.

Anyway... I was visiting a town around 6 miles from my home yesterday, reading on a small cul-de-sac of around 10 houses. Unfortunately nobody answered at any of the houses, and I was getting a little frustrated since I have a target to hit and the snow was coming down heavily. As I reached the last house on the street I noticed that the front lawn was covered - literally covered - in bouquets of flowers. I haven't seen so many since Princess Diana died. I called over to a kid across the street and asked if someone had died. He told me that the wife of the owner passed away last week, and everybody on the street was at the funeral. So, I left with the intention to go back today.

I got back to the street this morning. The snow was ridiculously deep, and as I slipped and slid up the pavement I noticed that the husband was out in the garden, slowly carrying the flowers into his garage and laying them carefully down on the floor. He looked around 70, and was obviously having difficulty walking on the lawn. I walked over and told him I'd come to read his meter, and helped him move the last few bouquets to the garage.

We chatted for a few minutes as I read the meter, and I have to say that I was humbled by his attitude. He'd been married many years, and his wife died after a long illness. He didn't go into the details but it was obvious that his wife had succumbed after a long, painful fight. After I finished the job we stood in the doorway for a few minutes. He offered me a drink but I didn't want to impose, so we just spent a few minutes passing the time of day.

I didn't want to leave. I felt so sorry for the poor guy - but it warmed my heart that he took everything life threw at him in such good humour. I can only hope that when I get to that age - and God willing I'll have shared a long life with a woman I loved dearly - that I'll be able to take that kind of tragedy with such stoicism, and display such poise.

So, silly as it may be, I'm glad there are people like him in the world. It's good to know that there's still some good, down to earth folk around.

The Coke Monkey

Michael Demmons at Dean's World tells of the evils of dieting, and describes his own experiences with weight loss:-

Over the course of a year, I lost about 100 pounds and my pant size dropped from size 42 (almost) to 32 (at one point, I could fit into a size 30!) The great thing is that I never once felt hungry.

I'm still obsessive about my weight. I'm a little over 200lbs now (I'm 6'1".) But I still have a bad relationship with food. There're only two rules I follow really: First, a full breakfast every morning. Second: Everything in moderation - except Coke, which is heroin.

I obsess about my weight, too. I've never been overweight, but I've always felt that, still a young man, I'm wasting the opportunity to be in really great shape before the skin starts to dangle and unexplainable ear hair sprouts from my head.

I'm around 5'9" (I think), and at the moment I'm about 168lb - a weight I'm very happy with. But it won't last. In the past few years I've yo-yo'd between 150lb and 185lb, going from almost gaunt to decidedly chubby. Right now I'm walking for 7 or 8 hours a day for my job, and I go until 6pm on just a few Maltesers and my trusty Marlboros before coming home to a healthy dinner.

The result of this is that it's almost as if I can't stop the weight coming off. I spent 3 evenings this week at a kitchen-shy friend's house watching pirated legitimately purchased DVD's, and we've gone for McDonalds twice - and snacked on cookies, crisps and lager between Big Macs. Even so, I dropped 2 pounds this week. Not that I'm complaining - it's just strange, is all.

What I wanted to write about, though, was the fact that I - along with Michael - had a fairly substantial Coke problem - the fizzy kind, not Bolivian marching powder. Michael was drinking 3 litres a day of the full fat variety, while I was pouring about 4 litres of Diet Coke down my throat between sunrise and sunset. Now there's some serious chemicals in that much Coke - and at almost 400 gallons a year, that's some serious punishment to the internal organs. 4 litres of caffeine, following some quick sums, equals about 500mg per day - half a toxic dose. Every day.

I decided to quit the Coke around Christmas of last year -not just due to the health worries, but for the fact that it was costing me around 5% of my take home salary to keep the caffeine monkey off my back. Now that's just stupid.

Surprisingly, it wasn't at all difficult to kick the habit. I stopped on New Year's Eve, the day I went on holiday. Conveniently Coke costs a shitload in Fuerteventura, and what with all the heat I just switched to water and never looked back. No cravings, no jitters - not even any traditional baby-walking-along-the-ceiling hallucinations. To be honest, I felt cheated.

Still, I walked into a shop today to buy cigarettes, felt a little thirsty, and bought a full-fat bottle of Coke. God, it was good.

Selected Letters of Sortapundit

Following a Wizbang post regarding abusive email, I thought I'd share with you from my correspondence with the big bloggers over the years. Enjoy.


Sortapundit vs. Glenn Reynolds

Me: Hi. I just thought I'd write say how much I enjoy your site. Keep up the good work.

Glenn: What the fuck is your problem, asshole? Doesn't a restraining order mean anything to you? Stop emailing. Stop calling. Stop mailing crudely photo-shopped photos of Gary Coleman in drag. Next time I hear from you I'll give you such a stabbing. Dumb shit.


Sortapundit vs. Kevin Aylward

Me: Hi. I just thought I'd write say how much I enjoy your site. Keep up the good work.

Kevin: What the fuck is your problem, asshole? Doesn't a restraining order mean anything to you? Stop emailing. Stop calling. Stop mailing crudely photo-shopped photos of Gary Coleman in drag. Next time I hear from you I will own your ass. Own it! Dumb shit.


Sortapundit vs. Frank J.

Me: Hi. I just thought I'd write say how much I enjoy your site. Keep up the good work.

Frank: What the fuck is your problem, asshole? Doesn't a restraining order mean anything to you? Stop emailing. Stop calling. Stop mailing crudely photo-shopped photos of Gary Coleman in drag. Next time I hear from you I'll make you eat a burger. When I say 'burger' I mean, of course, your testicles. Dumb shit.


Sortapundit vs. Dean Esmay

Me: Hi. I just thought I'd write say how much I enjoy your site. Keep up the good work.

Dean: What the fuck is your problem, asshole? Doesn't a restraining order mean anything to you? Stop emailing. Stop calling. Stop mailing crudely photo-shopped photos of Gary Coleman in drag. Next time I hear from you you'd better be wearing pads, cause I'm gonna beat ya. Beat ya real good! Dumb shit.


Sortapundit vs. Jeff Goldstein

Me: Hi. I just thought I'd write say how much I enjoy your site. Keep up the good work.

Jeff: Hey. Uh, you think you could hook me up with more pictures of that hot little midget? Please?

Blogging in the UK

Much has been made of Iain Duncan Smith's comments in Saturday's Guardian about the future of British blogging (h/t Wizbang). Smith claims that we are about to see in the UK the same 'revolution' we have seen in recent years in the US - and, as in the US, it will be the right who benefit.

I'm not so sure. Don't get me wrong - as a UK native I'd be more than happy to see my hobby take on a more professional status; to be in a position in which I can affect the political landscape of my nation through nothing more than sitting here typing while watching the FA Cup on TV. Bring it on. Alas, I'm not confident.

Bloggers in the UK, in my estimation, are at least 2 years behind the US. 2 years ago US bloggers couldn't have dreamed they'd one day have the power to bring down Dan Rather; to humiliate Jordan Eason. Politicians on the left would have scoffed at the idea that they could raise millions - millions - of dollars by running ads in the blogosphere. Nobody would have expected that, 2 years later, some of us would be doing this as a career.

That's the way it is today in the UK. We - UK bloggers - don't have anything like the power over the MSM that exists in the US. The reason for this, of course, is that nobody here knows what the hell a blog is. I couldn't tell you how many times - in job interviews, especially - I've been met with blank stares when asked what my interests are and I respond with 'I write a blog.' It's getting better, but it's an uphill struggle converting the masses.

The other reason I'm not optimistic about the future of British blogging is that we have a vibrant media - vastly more vital than that of the US. The only sound we hear today from the US print media is a death rattle - the final breaths of a medium outmoded, usurped from its niche by the more responsive TV - and the ubiquitous, almost omnipresent Internet.

But it isn't entirely the fault of the newspapers that they are reduced to partisan sniping and desperate drives to retain their dwindling reader base. Part of the reason is simple geography. The US is a considerably larger chunk of land than the UK - making it nigh on impossible for a truly national newspaper to exist. Instead we find regional journals - usually named for the city at the centre of their range - controlling portions of the country. The New York Times; The Washington Post etc - followed on their heels by much smaller local papers covering a county or town. It isn't cost effective to market nationally. Instead, they preside over their little fiefdoms like feudal lords. Of course, the advent of Internet news has enabled these lords to reach a truly national market for the first time - unfortunately it has loosed their stranglehold over the fiefdoms.

The UK, however, is more than compact enough to allow national newspapers to thrive. While the Times is correctly named The London Times, it arrives on newstands in Birmingham and Manchester at the same time as it arrives in Westminster. I can go to my local newsagent just outside Manchester at 6AM and take my pick of any of 20 or so national newspapers. If I'm in the mood for an international paper I can go for the Wall Street Journal Europe, USA Today or the Herald Tribune. Whatever my tastes, whatever my political views, there will be something for me on the newstand.

Pleased as I am that I have such wide choices in my reading, I worry that the blogophere over here will not as readily break through into the national consciousness.

Unless... I wonder what skeletons Rupert Murdoch has in his closet. Hmmm...

Others blogging: Wizbang, DailyKos, Instapundit, Powerline

Caption Contest

I don't really have the readership for a kickass caption contest, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to ridicule O Dub, king of the rabid, foaming at the mouth irrational rant. Now I'll just sit back and wait to be sued for copyright violation. I'm probably racist, too.



From Oliver Willis' Blog

I'll start you off:

Terror in New York as the Willis Balloon Escapes the Macy's Parade

What's in the Blue Window, Kids?

Ahhh, another day, another example of left wing nastiness and stupidity (via Oliver and Eschaton)

I don't really get the whole 'We hate Glenn' screamfest - seemingly spearheaded by Atrios and Oliver, surely the least attractive cheerleaders in history. I've been reading Instapundit for years and I've never really thought of him as anything other than reasonably balanced. Sure, he does occasionally tend to favour our side of the political fence, but he's not exactly pushing the right wing boat out, is he? Or maybe I'm just not paying enough attention.

Anyway, I take issue with Jonathan of Blogoland's claim that there is any real hypocrisy going on. There's a big difference between drawing attention to the sexual peccadilloes of Jeff Gannon and giving airtime to an infidelity story that could have potentially destroyed Kerry's Presidential campaign (in an election that was played anything but cleanly). Kerry's supposed infidelity, far from being a side story, was the story. Gannon's story is very different. The meat of the scandal is his connection to the White House - his ownership of domains such as hotmilitarystud.com is just embarassing tat, and not fit for serious discussion.

On the subject of things that aren't fit for serious discussion, simpleton Oliver Willis asks how a male hooker with $20,000 of tax debt get press credentials. Hey, didn't we just cover this?

While I'm in the general area of media scandals, I'll put in the obligatory Eason Jordan opinion. For the record, I don't think he should be out of a job. Hell, if I got fired every time I said something stupid I'd - wait a minute, I do get fired every time I say something stupid. OK, speaking as someone in the same boat as Eason, I think we should have cut the asshat a little slack. Everyone puts their foot firmly in their mouth every now and then. Unfortunately he didn't take the initiative, step forward and apologise. Instead he backtracked, muttered something about being taken out of context and eventually ran away, tail between his legs.

For future reference, the only way - the only way - to get out of a fix like that is to put on your most honest, aw shucks expression and apologise. Mr Jordan, repeat after me:

'Ahm Sawry... I shouldna oughta said that.'

Oh, and don't claim the military assasinate their countrymen - no, not even if you have cast-iron proof. Damned idiot monkey.

Update

Dean agrees.

'Nother Update

Back to the Gannon story, Wizbang's Paul points out the difference between Gannon and Jordan. As usual, it seems that the right are right. Sure, we're not always the good guys - this time, however, it seems we are.

Meanwhile, Oliver Willis reports that Rawstory claims to have found a link between Gannon and Press Secretary Scott Mclellan - after an anonymous source said Mclellan frequented gay bars in Texas. Hell, I've frequented gay bars. It doesn't make me gay.

This from the 'tolerant' left.

Adventures in Bed-Wetting

I woke up this morning around 2AM, my sheets soaking wet around my waist. It was dark and I wasn't wearing my contacts, so I stumbled drunkenly around my room, mumbling about wetting the bed. I was barely half awake, still hammered, and I sat there for ten minutes in a wet pair of boxers staring at the floor. I tried to remember how much I'd had to drink, and if it was enough to make me piss the bed. I didn't think so, but I could barely remember coming home - or making the half eaten sandwich next to the bed - so it must have been a fair amount.

Anyway, after a while I changed my underwear and laid towels down on the bed to cover the wet patch. That's when I noticed the curtain twitching above the bed, hiding my very guilty looking cat - and an empty, toppled bottle of Evian water - on the windowsill.

Damned cat.

Moonbats Rejoice, Riot

Well, it looks like good news for the left: Bush's job approval rating drops to 45% (via Wizbang). True to form, Atrios' commenters, those wags, chip in with their typically reasoned responses.

For example:-

Fuck Bush and the Whores he rode in on. Good to see glad tidings on this day.

Good morning. FUCK BUSH!

Oh, and if you live in a liberal "enclave" like a large coastal city, watch your ass. Who knows what these people will do to keep power.

Ahem.

Unfortunately for these shining examples of humanity, it seems the poll isn't all it claims to be. The results of the poll, taken by Ipsos Public Affairs, go against every other recent approval poll. Indeed, every other poll taken in February (Fox News, Rasmussen, CNN/USA Today/Gallup and Newsweek) tell a different story. The least favourable, taken by Rasmussen, gives Bush a 49/49% split, while the rest give him between 50-57% - a spread of between 8-17% favourable/unfavourable. In addition, since the election only Rasmussen has presented results suggesting anything stronger than a -1% spread - the mean being +5.7% (all poll results from RealClearPolitics).

So - it seems fair to say that the Ipsos result of a -9% spread is an anomaly. But that isn't all. Looking back at historical data, out of 86 polls taken in advance of November's Presidential election, only 7 predicted a win for John Kerry. Guess what Ipsos predicted. Yup. Not only once, though. Of the 7 polls predicting a Kerry win, 2 were from Ipsos. In addition, they were the only pollsters to predict a result for Kerry greater than +2% - +4% early October, and +3% at the end of the month.

In light of this it could be suggested that Ipsos is ridiculously partisan - or it could just be that they aren't very good at taking the temperature of the nation. Either way, three words come to mind regarding their polls:

Pinch. Of. Salt.

Bah

Bah. My interview yesterday didn't go at all well. My experience and ability to do the job was fine, but they didn't like the fact that I hadn't shown 'initiative' in job hunting. Apparently it isn't enough to gather years of experience in sales, register with several agencies and apply for jobs whose pay and benefits reflects my skills. What I should have been doing is sending my CV out to every Tom, Dick and Harry who has a sales department, turning up unannounced at businesses and demanding interviews - even taking phone numbers from the side of company vans and trucks to pursue a job. Thanks for coming in, but you're not what we're looking for.

Anyway, I got a call today to arrange an interview for next week. Good, solid company; 6 thousand more than I'm earning at the moment. To be honest I'd be more than happy to stay where I am. This new job, despite the poor salary, is the best job I've ever had. Zero stress, out in the fresh air, I set my own hours and my boss doesn't have the number to my mobile phone. It doesn't get much better than that. Still, if someone offers a big raise and a nice car, who am I to say no?

Eason Jordan

Gerard Vanderleun puts his finger on exactly why you won't be seeing the Eason Jordan story in the MSM:

You see you can blast heroes as killers and walk off the field to cocktail parties in Davos and pretend nothing happened if you and your cohort control the careers of all that might expose you.

Read it all.

Of course, that isn't to say that the story will never surface. Indeed, given the exposure of the blogosphere it may eventually become impossible to ignore. In that case you could expect a lot of stories printed without a byline. After all, nobody wants to paint a target on their chest.

Spin

If there's one thing that gets under my skin it's spin. Atrios treats us with this little nugget proving beyond all doubt that President Bush is an uncaring, evil maniac:-

In Omaha on Friday, a divorced single mother named Mary Mornin tells the
president, "I have one child, Robbie, who is mentally challenged, and I have two
daughters."

"Fantastic," the president exclaims, and he tells her she has "the hardest
job in America, being a single mom."

Later, the 57-year old Mornin tells Bush that she works three jobs, which
the president deems "uniquely American" and "fantastic." He asks her if she gets
any sleep.

Far be it from me to claim that Atrios may have intentionally misrepresented Bush's statement, but I can't help but think that maybe he has some ulterior motives.

First, lets clear up some facts. This is an excerpt of the transcript from Friday's discussion:-


THE PRESIDENT: Mary is with us. Mary Mornin. How are you, Mary?

MS. MORNIN: I'm fine.

THE PRESIDENT: Good. Okay, Mary, tell us about yourself.

MS. MORNIN: Okay, I'm a divorced, single mother with three grown, adult children. I have one child, Robbie, who is mentally challenged, and I have two daughters.

THE PRESIDENT: Fantastic. First of all, you've got the hardest job in America, being a single mom.

MS. MORNIN: Thank you. (Applause.)

...

MS. MORNIN: That's good, because I work three jobs and I feel like I contribute.

THE PRESIDENT: You work three jobs?

MS. MORNIN: Three jobs, yes.

THE PRESIDENT: Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that. (Applause.) Get any sleep? (Laughter.)

MS. MORNIN: Not much. Not much.


In essense, Atrios remained faithful to the text. However, his implication is obvious. It really kicks off in the comments with these thoughful observations:-

Wow, how'd that woman make it through screening?

Uniquely American = "57 year-old people in other civilized countries don't have to work three jobs to support themselves and their three kids, one of whom is mentally challenged"

W deserves a serious cock punching for that one.

Condi thinks the tsunami was fabulous opportunity. George thinks that working three jobs and have a mentally handicapped child is terrific.Did I miss something?

On top of his failure on Social Security privatization, if this gaffe spreads around, I wonder if George's second term just jumped the shark.

I'd like to punch that bastard right in the nose.

Good instincts, hadenough and Atrios. SS wonking is productive in terms of legislative debate, but this sort of thing is what reaches the voters. I hope the DNC gets their noise machine
together and mentions this in every available forum.

A single mother working three jobs while trying to raise a disabled child and have some semblance of a normal life with her other kids is not "fantastic", it's shameful.

He probably sees this as family values. Trouble is Mary doesn't get to ever see her kids, much less raise them, cuz she's never at home.

it's "fantastic" to work 167 hours of an 168 hour week

It was the work of 5 minutes to find the schedule for the Religious Education Dept. of the St Robert Bellarmine Church, where Ms. Mornin is a secretary. As it happens there are only 2 classes a week including Sunday School. It's a part time job. Ms. Mornin probably works a couple of mornings a week at the School, and the rest of the week in 2 other part time jobs - and there's nothing wrong with that. It probably offers more flexibility than she would have in a single full time job - flexibility she enjoys as it makes it easier to take care of her disabled son. Indeed, her boss was more than happy to let her take the day off to attend the discussion. No sweatshop for her.

A little more searching reveals that Ms. Mornin has enough disposable income to buy take-out food for her dog, Snoopy. She isn't reduced to living on bread and water under the harsh rule of an evil dictator. Her cup runneth over - far from crumbs and table scraps, the family pet is treated to chicken nuggets, nachos and bagels.

See, as Atrios and I prove, it's easy to spin a story either way. The most reliable method of reporting, if we're so concerned about Ms. Mornin's wellbeing, would be to ask her what she thinks. Did she think Bush was rude, cruel and uncaring? I think not:-

"I like his plan," she said after Bush's speech. "He's just so personable.
He really put me at ease."

Ms. Mornin told us later that, "He knew I was nervous... Twice on the stage, he turned and said, 'are you OK?'"

Oliver Willis Wins Prestigous Award

I'm in a foul mood today. I've been browsing around for a new car CD player to replace the one that was stolen a couple of weeks ago, and had my eye on a CD/MP3 player marked down to half price. Instead I decided to do the grown-up thing and pay off 140 quid of personal debt. So - no decent music and over a ton vanished into the overdraft/credit card hole in an instant. Bah.

Anyway, I'm gonna use the bad mood to attack an idiot. We have a saying where I come from to describe an utterly pointless person; someone you wouldn't invite for a drink because they bring absolutely nothing to the table. They either sit in silence, or embarras you with their stupid, idiotic opinions. This person is described as a waste of a seat.

Oliver Willis is a complete waste of a seat. He uses up our air and replaces it with stupidity. Congratulations, Willis. You win the first Sortapundit 'Waste of a Seat' Award - as do the majority of your commenters. Bravo.

Sortapundit Atrophied

You know, I've often wondered what would happen if a company cut it's advertising down to zero. Would it keep selling products, or would it quickly fizzle away into obscurity? I've now answered my own question. Starting around Christmas I cut down my trackbacks, commenting on other blogs, and any form of creating an online presence beyond occasional, unlinked posts - partly due to sloth and other obligations in real life, but also as an experiment to see how it would affect my readership. The results prove that advertising is essential, especially for a little fish such as myself.

In November I had around 15,000 hits; December around 10,500. January netted around 4,000. February so far will average around 2,000 hits. It's a depressing result.

So, I now need to bring it back up to a respectable figure. 2,000 hits a month is no way to live. But short of posting naked pictures of celebrities I'm not entirely sure how to do it. My fairly bland, uncontroversial style has never really dragged in the readers, so I may have to resort to more inflammatory posts.

OK, I'm off to buy a set of Andrew Sullivan and Oliver Willis talking dolls. They might have some ideas.

Woohoo Redux

It's been a crazy few days in the Sortapundit household, which has put a slight crimp on blogging. I'm making a good bit of progress on the job front, though. I don't want to jinx it, but I'm following up a lead that could, all going well, mean that I'd never have to worry about money ever again. I could be earning several times my current salary - and get a good car to boot. However, there's no such thing as a free lunch. The application process is hardcore. So far I've had three telephone interviews - and so, bizarrely, has my mother. If I get the job it'll be long hours and a bag of stress - but no more than I get at the moment just covering my bills. I have a face to face early next week, and if that goes well I'll be spending the day in the office getting to know the job.

Again, keep your fingers crossed for me.

Except when you're typing. Or driving.

That could cause an accident.