I find that I’m increasingly reaching for my blog entries.  I’m desperate for subjects on which to write.  Not because there’s nothing happening, but because, well, who cares?  I could say things like "I love bitchy Daleks" or "Endemol’s attempts to keep Jayne in the house for one more week is tragically transparent" but what’s the point?  I mean, did you see Love Island?  I won’t make the point that it’s no longer Celebrity Love Island, and I won’t bother talking about anything that happened in it because it’s been done elsewhere, and by funnier and more incisive people than I.

So that’s TV over with.  What about the real world?  Do you think I’m insane enough to open this blog up to politics?  I mean, I may be desperate for comments but not if they’re all nutty ones from people with bees in their bonnets.  Note how the real world is shorthand for "current affairs" not "The Moth’s life", because no.  Although I can say that it’s spider season again, which means that.. well, this morning I opened the door to take the recycling out and there was a perfect, beautifully woven web at face-height across the door.  Nice!  That got short shrift from me, and a newspaper was deployed to break up the arachnid artistry.  Try writing moving messages about pigs if you don’t want me to smash your home, dudes!

Also, ants.  One never likes to, you know, kill ants.  But right now it’s us or them.  I can’t sit at the computer and be covered in insects.  No.  Can’t happen.