I can barely believe this piece of news supplied kindly by . I don't know where to start in picking it apart, so I won't.

To more trivial matters.

Someone in this office has just said “Al Fayed”, when they meant “Al Qaida”. I'm no fan of Mohammed, but I don't believe that his erratic helmsmanship of Harrods is cause for us to wage a ferocious war on him, or the store, or their Belgian White Chocolate Eggs (complimentary for orders over £50 online.)

I saw Simon Pegg on the tube at Highgate this morning. He had a baseball cap pulled down hard over his face, obviously not keen on having people shower him with sycophantic banter at 9am. Understandable. I started to wonder, if I were a face-about-town, for how long I'd revel in the adulation, autograph requests and being deliberately tripped up, and at what stage I'd take to wearing a hijab. Only once have I been “recognised” in public. In about 1991 I was browsing records in the Swansea branch of Our Price, with my parents and sister scant metres away, when a girl came up to me and said “You're in a band, aren't you?” I was non-plussed. I was a fully fledged member by that point, but this didn't get me access to good tables in restaurants, or even at Homebase. “Er…um…” She persisted, clearly desperate to get to know me better. “Yeah, in London, I've seen you… Oh, I know what you're called, hang on… don't tell me…” I didn't tell her, and quietly slunk away, murmuring apologies. She didn't want to get to know me better, after all, as she didn't bother stalking me around town; in fact, I never saw her again. I still claim to this day that my dad set the whole thing up, just to cause some meagre embarrassment worth bringing up over the dinner table that evening.