Britney Exposed! Very clever.

Spooks concluded on Monday night. As far as I’m concerned, this was the finest piece of television drama ever produced. The BBC’s drama department have come up with some solid works this year, but this stands head-and-shoulders above everything else. Even if the subject matter is not to your taste (and I must admit to being big on spy dramas), this was a thoroughly gripping and enjoyable piece of televisual wonder. And they’re promising a second series. The BBC could double—even triple—the licence fee if they continue churning out stuff of this quality.

Also, while most of the popular American buy-ins make me cringe, Channel 4 seems to have done well to bring Six Feet Under to the UK audience. It’s taken me a little time to warm to it, but I think I’m addicted. Now, if only Universal would release the whole of Northern Exposure on DVD, my life would be improved still further.

The great thing about USB is the seemingly endless stream of gadgets it spawns. First there was the USB light, then the USB fan—now, prepare thyself for the USB microscope.

Helibebcnof, as my father used to say. You know, there aren’t many of us that are named on the periodic table of the elements—I was saying this only the other day to my brothers Nb and Zr.

I am Molybdenum Morgan, and I claim my five pounds.

A web space dedicated to the humming sound of the refrigerator: Fridges & Streets.

That’s great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane and Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn—world serves its own needs, dummy serve your own needs. Feed it off an aux speak, grunt, no, strength. Ladder start to clatter with fear fight down height. Wire in a fire, represent the seven games a government for hire and a combat site. Left of west and coming in a hurry with the furies breathing down your neck. Team by team reporters baffled, trumped, tethered cropped. Look at that low playing! Fine, then. Uh oh, overflow, population, common food, but it’ll do. Save yourself, serve yourself. World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed dummy with the rapture and the revered in the right—right. You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched.

Six o’clock—TV hour. Don’t get caught in foreign towers. Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn. Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting. Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate. Light a candle, light a votive. Step down, step down. Watch your heel crush, crushed. Uh oh, this means no fear cavalier. Renegade steer clear! A tournament, tournament, a tournament of lies. Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline.

The other night I dreamt of knives, continental drift divide. Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein, Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs. Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You symbiotic, patriotic, slam book neck, right? Right.

Goldie was on Eastenders. Weird. Cool—but weird.

I met Goldie once, and he invited me back to a big post-gig champagne and cocaine party at his house. I later discovered that he thought I was somebody else.