My Monday evening felt slightly empty, as the weekly Resonance show was cancelled due to studio refurbishment. At the moment the valiant presenters have to battle with a small rack of malfunctioning valves, 18ft of garden twine and a kettle in order to make the station what it is, so I'm hoping that next Monday at 8.30pm I'll saunter in to a studio suite with a close resemblance to Sarm West. It's a shame, as we've still not launched our fantastic competition “Link Ray” in which any famous person or group of people has to be linked to Ray Manzarak of The Doors. With the assistance of a notebook and a sharp pencil, I can get from Ray to Asian Dub Foundation in 3 steps! Beat that.

To fill the void, Jenny and I went to see Grand Theft Parsons, starring Johnny Knoxville. Once again, I'll embarrass myself online by revealing my limited powers of film critique: It was quite good. Johnny Knoxville was also quite good. I'll leave the deep and meaningful analysis to .

My website and email are down, down, deeper and down, as The Quo would say. And just at the precise moment where I'm supposed to be entering into an email discussion with Salam Pax and Gregor Wright about the nature of “blogging” for a feature in the Guardian. I'm probably missing vast slabs of interesting exchange, unable to chip in with any self-deprecating gags about my slowly increasing waistline being a function of sitting in front of a Macintosh computer… but as they would all – quite rightly – be excised by the editor of the piece, I don't suppose it matters very much. I always feel odd ringing my service provider to complain about my email being down… Although they are friendly and helpful, there's always something in their tone which betrays their true feelings: “Look, no-one is emailing you anyway. No-one. It doesn't matter. When we've restored it, you'll just have 82 messages urging you to Beef Up The Size Of Your Johnson. Calm down.”