Ted Max

It wasn't Hawkeye that beeped but a laser-based tool called Cyclops that had been around since the early 80s. It got the boot two years ago from the show courts when they started using Hawkeye.

*something about pigs flying* (because it's Friday and it's the best I can do) No, I'm not anti-police.

?Stoned wallabies make crop circles? I thought it was the NRL and Footie players with the misbehaviour problems. Is this the Union boys fighting back?

But, but, three Sundays ago I had thick-cut toast from off of a real loaf in there. And butter. Perhaps they had a very successful Saturday the day before your visit, and were left with the emergency bread for the Sunday. Doesn't explain the butter/ marge though. Am I thinking too much about this?

Another vote for the Prince Albert. Big Phil is softly catching that monkey, I reckon.

(Ray Davies, MickMac)

Proud. Six years old. In mood it put me in mind of this. (a little bit - not the "to wake and be happy again" line obviously, I'm sure she's very happy)

There was a stupendously long and portentous article back in Feb in the Observer by Sean O'Hagan. Here's a taster or two. I might adopt "Move it on down to Bamako" as my signature. "Things are looking good," he says. "It's a beautiful, sunny, winter's day and Edna O'Brien has just been sent me her book on Lord Byron." No Line on the Horizon is finally finished. "It began and ended in a flash," he says. "The last 24 hours were just extraordinary. It was like Chinese calligraphy, where the monks take ages to mix the ink and then - bam! - it all happens in seconds." Eno, who has assumed the role of musical director, shouts out tempo changes, instructions, suggestions. "The chords sound a little too vanilla," he says of one laid-back, swampy groove. Bono, who has a couch all to himself, concurs. "We need to find that nightclub-in-Tripoli feel," he shouts back, swaying to the beat, "then move it on down to Bamako."

Wasn't post-punk just a bad joke from the early eighties? I've no idea. I just chucked it in 'cos I thought it sounded good. Muley might have the correct genre to hand. Anyway, the Silver Buckle shut - where is Maurice going to go for his lunchtime hauf-n-hauf now?

Post Code Sluts is an all-female post-punk band whose members are called Vixen, Viper, and Temptress. Real names Sophie, Georgie and Lucy, they got their early break by winning a inter-House comp at Wimbledon Grammar (Girls Section) performing a medley of McFly hits. myspace.com/postcodesluts

*adds something about pansies*

Sensing another smacking opportunity, Brendan? When the park was done up a while back there was immediately some vandalism of the new flower beds (which were then swiftly fenced off) and a couple of the benches in the corners of the Sexby were also trashed. But since then and until now things seem to have been left well alone. If the culprits are caught, perhaps half a day as Pure collectors on the Rye would be fitting. Or Brendan could just smack them to death, of course.

Long hair, pony tail, mid-90s? via videosift.com

Always with the smacking, Brendan. Would you benefit from a session with our welfare officer? She's got goldfish in her room, chairs like they have in the staff room, and an old TV and VHS video player that is never turned on.

PRose, all I meant by my post was that your post might be read to imply that you think I'm rather older than I am. Looks a bit pathetic written like that but I'm not sure it should worry you, as such.

And Ted Max if you'd like - be happy to ride you round town. I took my 76 year old Uncle on the back a year ago; I'm sort of conflicted by the apparent train of thought there. But it's nice to be reassured I'll be up to it, all the same.

To anyone inspired by AnnaJ's friend to think about joining the register - I'd say go for it. I have been "harvested" and I say this not to polish my halo, but because the Anthony Nolan Trust (the people I signed up with) does ask people to publicise their own experiences as a donor, so that others will perhaps consider signing up. Also, if you do come up as a match, which is of course by no means guaranteed, the procedure these days doesn't have to be done by a needle going into your hip. As in my case, it can be done with a short course of drugs which may give you slightly achey joints and bones, followed by a few hours lying on a bed attached to a machine that goes whirr-beep. It's a medical decision which option they go for and you as the donor can express a preference too if you wish.

I try to judge an itinerary that will show me off to best effect to my yokel visitors - positioning me as someone who can appreciate the classic London experience, while keeping in touch with the more modern movements arising from the streets. To this end I find a walking tour of St James, followed by a session in Chariots, often does the trick most efficaciously.

http://imgcache.allposters.com/images/MEPOD/10039904.jpg A Dulwich lady motorist takes to the road (Caption reads) Lady Motorist to Gentleman pedal-cyclist: "Gitaahhtovvityouprrrat, or I'll throw me dead budgie at yer."

I'm up for the ride, PR, but can you keep your orgasms to a minimum? Any more than two and I'd probably have difficulty squaring this with Mother as a suitable activity.

the hooter? http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41BTVZACD6L._SL500_AA280_.jpg I think you're within your rights to run the blighter down next time, Loo. Although maybe a poster campaign first, to warn other automobile enthusiasts in the vicinity, would be more appropriate?

Awkward 19 year old attempts awkward joke, egged on in context of jokey interview. Gets slaughtered for it. Goes back into shell. People complain he's captain grumpy. He gives them what they want for a couple of years. No surprise in that. Have you seen/ heard him recently? He's funny. And he never wore a Paraguay shirt either. A myth. I find the sense of ownership the Wimbledon public has over tennis players very weird. But Murray did a deal with the devil by going to crowd at 0-2 in sets during his game vs Gasquet last year. It rather gave the lie to his supposed indifference to the Union Flag Face Paint brigade. They own his arse now, and at some point will make him pay for it.

The sushi was so good, nobody's letting on.

Federer

I bet there's rich folks eatin', In a fancy dining car, They're probably drinkin' coffee, And smokin' big cigars, But I know I had it comin', I know I can't be free, But those people keep a-movin', And that's what tortures me. If you can't do the crime, son...