I'm glad I pulled out of Ulrika - www.bbc.co.uk/celebdaq

Oh what has become of me? Such is my addiction to the celebdaq I have actually bought shares in Robbie Williams and Britney Spears. I can sink no lower. I was like a demon this morning, scouring the internet for celebrity news waiting to get a scrap of insider knowledge on who to buy next. I caught a whiff of Britney's baby, Robbie's new album and it was BUY, BUY, BUY. It was only when I sat down on the lav when a strange fear gripped me and I realised I had crossed the line. I've turned into Zammo. Just say NO - too late! It's www.sky.com/showbiz, www.digitalspy.co.uk and www.gm.tv for me now. Bugger the Independent, it's the Sun and the News of the World I'm interested in (even if there is a Merchant Ivory DVD free - I'd rather a red top)
But, worst of all. Whilst I was trying to buy some Jodie Marsh this morning, I said some nasty things to Lofty who wanted me to trot along for lunch with her. The air went blue with my rage. Her face fell and then and only then I knew what I had become. Lunch is for wimps by the way.

And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!"
"By it and with it and on it and in it," said the Rat. "It's brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) washing. It's my world, and I don't want any other. What it hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not worth knowing."

What a day I had yesterday. The Ladyfriend and I went OTT (on the Thames)for the most fantastic afternoon. We were guests onboard Miss Diane and Mick's boat and I sat atop with a glass or two of wine. We sailed up and down the Thames from Bourne End to Bray and I now feel like Mr Toad. I WANT A BOAT.

I took to my bed last night with excitement fizzing like the air bubbles of a trout through my mind. Oh what joy there is gliding along through locks, by grassy banks, sighting swans, ducks and kingfishers! The Ladyfriend has emplored me to calm down but she knows it's no good. I have another mistress and it is the RIVER.

Friday night and my wonderful mother is tucked up nicely in the Cotswolds. The ladyfriend and I are looking after the house, it's half ten, the dog has been out on fox alert and I am glued to Celebdaq. What has become of me? My Babs Windsor shares are rocketing and I'm going to make a packet. Join me in my addiction - go to the website and start trading - www.bbc.co.uk/celebdaq

I tell you what it has done for me. It's made me actually interested in the world of celebrity. I can't bring myself to touch Jordan, Robbie Williams or Britney Spears but I might finger a copy of Heat Magazine - purely in the interests of research ofcourse.

Anyway, got to go, the ticker tape is showing Ross Kemp alerts.

Sorry, I couldn't resist it, yesterday it was world alzheimer's day. Ho, ho. I suppose if you have to explain a joke it isn't that funny. And let's face it, it's a terrible disease. There but for the grace of God go I.

Actually on my way to work this morning several old memories crept in which I had long brushed under the carpet. I was singing a Cocteau Twins song (which is an effort in itself) it reminded me of my youth when I'd skip off to the West End with a chum, driving through the streets of London in a Fiat Uno (quite the very thing in those days)the lights streaming across the windscreen. Happy days indeed. I wonder what has happened the Mike Church? I last saw him on a float at Brighton Pride atleast six years ago. He was dancing on the back of a lorry with a couple of dolly birds. I wonder where he is? Perhaps I should google him.

I am addicted to the BBC website Celebdaq. I even belong to a league: http://www.bbc.co.uk/celebdaq/

Before I forget it's

Arrrrrr! It's talk like a pirate day today! Shiver my timbers! Click here for more. I nearly forgot and I had been looking so forward to it. I will go home tonight and make the ladyfriend walk the plank.

Have not got much time to explain but can we all cross our fingers for Matthew Szurgot and cross our legs for Lofty. I can feel the love in this room!

How odd. I now have ear ache in the other ear. Last Friday the nest of spiders were in the right and now they have travelled to the left. Imagine the terror they have gone through to get there. It must have been like the poseidon adventure. I wonder how many were lost on the epic journey? I wonder if a large spider (like Shelley Winters) saved the day before plummeting to her death along the ear canal.

Goodness me I've been lax. I've got emails I have yet to reply to, flagged up in Outlook as high priority (sorry Carol, it's just you deserve a good reply, not a quickie), I've not updated my blog like I should, the website is looking old - there is NO time! Where did it all go? Talking of time running out....
My pals and I went down to Tesco during our lunch break and on the way out of the car park an elderly lady was struggling but happily lobbing bottles into the recycling bank. I thought, that's nice. Clearly she did not have all that much longer left on the planet but she still cared about what happens to it. How nice.

Mind you, she could be mad as a hat pin and just likes the noise as the bottles smash. Maybe they were freshly bought bottles of cheap french piss which she had blown her pension on. "Pick it up it's yours" music to her ears and the shattering of glass even more so.

It's a good time to be English. The last few days have made one feel very proud to be born in merry England. The cricket, the ashes, singing "Jerusalem" without the threat of the PC brigade slapping on a gag (or printing the words in braille or gujarati) Waving the flag of Saint George AND parading our success through good old London Town....It brings a lump to the throat. Fantastic.

The cricket success comes after the Last Night of the Proms which is also stirring stuff. However, as I sat with the ladyfriend's nice nieces on Saturday night, I was a trifle concerned whilst watching the audience. Amongst the Union Jacks was a GERMAN flag AND a EUROPEAN UNION flag! What a shocker! I nearly spat blood. I am convinced that they were planted. No doubt by the BBC terrified that if Tony Blair switched on when he came home from the pub and didn't see Euro representation he'd cut the licence fee faster than you can say "Rivers of blood". They can do that you know with CGI, all that Walking with Dinosaurs malarky, infact I think I saw a terradactyl carry off a cellist.

I have a slight feeling of discomfort in my right ear. I've been wiggling it a bit but it's still there - a bit like Charlie Dimmock, never quite in your face but omnipresent.

I've a feeling it's a nest of spiders and when I am eighty it will suddenly burst and a colony of eight legged beasts will fall out onto the floor in Casualty. I dare say I will end up in the Daily Mail (although, in my heart of hearts I do hope by then the evil rag will be long wound up)

I do hope it's not down to the microwave. I have been rather naughty since Wednesday. Lofty has led me down the path of nutritional destruction and has been making bacon butties for me at lunchtime. The bacon is blasted in plastic packets and I have thrown all my principles out of the window (well I would but we work in one of those hermetically sealed offices where fresh air and opening windows are unheard of) and have been scoffing them down without a moments hesitation. Bad, bad Lola.

I have a new favourite band. The Magic Numbers are ace. I was allowed to throw caution to the wind on Monday and I bought their CD. The ladyfriend bought that Damien Rice chaps cd in Reading and, on our way home to our village nestled within the Chilterns, I got my treat in nasty nasty Tesco. I was listening to it last night whilst doing the cous cous (North African food - not yoga position)and I thought it was smashing.

I don't buy many cds these days. To be honest they don't make them like they used to, I don't know much about the hit parade, the names come and go like sailors in dockside back alleys. I've bought a little cd player for the car now so the long journeys can be filled with Elkie Brooks and Shirley Bassey.

Smashing day off yesterday. The Ladyfriend and I went for a little light shopping at The Oracle shopping 'mall' in Reading. We were quite taken aback by the amount of kids around, I had hoped they had all gone back to school but it wasn't the case. Actually, Reading is so Chav rough, they may well be back in class but had all bunked off. I felt for our safety, and kept my hand on my purse.

Ended the day pissed on white wine in the back garden(thank you Zoe) I've just done her website www.stayincapetown.co.uk and will be going to South Africa next year - I've never done long haul, preferring short trips to the continet so I am looking forward to it.
We watched slugs race across the patio, tracked bats as they flew into our airspace and watched the stars brighten. I can't actually remember getting into bed.

It's my brother's 40th birthday today and in celebration I have taken the day off work (well, it's a coincidence really but don't tell him that) What a milestone or perhaps millstone to reach. The Ladyfriend and I went to his 'do' on Friday night and had great fun dancing. It was not so much footballer's wives than reader's wives but it was fun. Miffed that my DJ request for Neil Diamond fell on death ears but you can't win them all.

Crack open the champers for I hear the death rattle of August. Tomorrow begins September and the onslaught of my absolute favourite time of year - Autumn. The smokey air, the bulging hedgerows, the wine, the game, jumpers, boots, leaves! Oh I am getting myself into a state just thinking about letting my onions sweat. The sun has been nice on several occasions and I did enjoy doing suduko on Eastbourne beach whilst mint choc chip dribbled down my arm, but I've had quite enough now thankyou.

Things look nicer in fresh clean light. I always think summer is like American TV clips on English telly. I think it is something to do with the NTSC system but it looks too gaudy and soft. Autumn is crisp like a sixties films - Breakfast at Tiffany's, Alfie, you get my drift. No, let the dark nights draw in....Autumn days when the grass is jewelled.

I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to start waving a placard and burning my bra a bit but I'm more than a bit ticked off at the BBC. Last night I joined the ladyfriend on the sofa who was watching that awful Ricky Gervais 'comedian' - I use that word in it loosest sense (am I the only person not to find him funny?) Anyway, I thought I'd stepped back into the seventies. Have the BBC gone so far with political correctness that they are coming out the other side?

What little of his programme I saw centered around making light of a gay man who was played in a camp stereotypical way. It pissed me off but I thought 'whatever' that's what straight people are comfortable with, it's how they like gay people on tv, non threatening, feminine (Graham Norton, Dale Winton etc).

After the programme, the Catherine Tate Show came on. In three sketches being gay was the butt of the joke. "Gay Boy" was one of them. I thought to myself, 'hang on a minute'. If these jokes were about being black, handicapped or women they wouldn't get an airing let alone be on prime time tv. I half expected the Black and White Minstrel Show to come on next! Why is it acceptable to prolong such outmoded humour? Will and Grace can do it without being offensive.

The irony of it all is, the funniest programme on tv was the one after all that drivel - "Absolute Power" which stars Stephen Fry, an out gay man who has never had to limp his wrist, refer to 'hiding sausages' or camp it up to appear on the BBC. Hmmm....

I may have to go and lie down in a darkened room but I fancy going to France. Not just a booze cruise which I believe is an ideal way to pop over and annoy the Frenchies with alcohol fuelled behaviour, blue language and the sacking of their supermarkets (why do we buy such big boxes of washing powder?)

No, I fancy exploring the Dordogne. I've been watching that Rick Stein on another BBC jolly and I must say he does paint a pretty picture. It's pretty villages are preserved in aspic and there is medieval architecture aplenty.

I'm sure Mr Stein is glossing over the rum side of France and giving it a bit of an H E bates makeover, he is quite possibly taking a kick-back from the French tourist board but he's doing a very good job. The ladyfriend and I are hooked. We fancy sinking our teeth into the arse of a five year old cow and washing it down with fine wine bought for 'pennies'. We'd best get a move on though, book the 2CV before the frogs lose their EU grants!

One of the highlights of the year has begun for the Ladyfriend and I. As the seasons begin to bump into one another, like two bobbing boats in a harbour, as Summer gently gives way to autumn, Saturday night tv gets good.

Ofcourse I say that with my tongue firmly wedged into my cheek. We all know that the only thing truly worth watching on a Saturday night is an ambulance which has turned up a few doors down the street (this happened this weekend by the way - I was up and down like a bride's nightie)

Saturday nights are now X Factor nights. There is nothing more entertaining than watching common people trying to make their dream come true. The first episode was tv heaven. A big ginger girl (when I say big - I mean big) was humiliated beyond all realms of decency. It was magic. She failed the xfactor audition and wept inconsolably whilst clutching a picture of two children which I presumed to be hers. She was afterall 18 and if they weren't hers she was leaving it a bit late.

Her family pleaded on their knees for the judges to accept her on their fast track to super stardom. They were denied. There were tears in our house - tears of joy.
It really is the best tv programme, well it is whilst it's still at the audition stage. The ladyfriend and I rush home from the high street, pop the chops under a low light and switch on to see Cowell et al sort the Wheat from the Chav.

I have been under the weather. I've had razor blades in my throat the size of those dwarf actors you get in provincial Christmas pantomimes. I'm better now though and back to my usual nasty self. I've got my eye on that Natasha Kaplinksy. I was raging with anger at her this morning over my porridge (which incidentally was made with soya milk - I didn't like it, I had to add more sugar which surely counteracts any health benefits which my switch from dairy would have made)
Anyway, she sat there boss eyed, pouting, dressed like she was off to a brothel afterwards whilst Bill Turnbill (a woman in drag?) tried to keep things together. Natasha stumbled with the long AND short words. I tell you, the woman is the Victoria Beckham of morning television. It was reported this week in the red tops that 'Posh' has never read a book before - join the club with Natasha - she's never read an autocue!