2001-06-21 - 11:57 p.m.

�She used to be a dip-lomat, but now she�s down the laun-dromat��

Next week I finally, after having the blessed thing for like twelve years, have to renew my passport. I have mixed feelings about this. It�s a really cool, old, bad-ass colonial black British design that has, over the last decade, been replaced by crappy little purple oharen�twepleasedtobeeuropean versions. On the other hand, it has a picture of my teenage self, unrecognisable now, unravaged by unholy pastimes and with the most smug little grin creeping over the edges of the upturned collar of my denim jacket (way to go Fonzie). I just want to punch that little gimp, and tell him that it would be a) advisable to get a semblance of dress sense and b) three more years before he got laid. The two cannot be unrelated, I feel. I�m constantly amazed that I cross international borders without inciting a least remedial physical violence.

So next week I become a proper European citizen. I think it involves wearing deck shoes, waving your arms around when you talk and not washing.

�Well I know her name, oh but now she never seems the same��

I have a couple of trips planned to hot places and my body is suddenly in shock about the prospect of being in swimming trunks. Gotta work on that belly. It looks like all the pizzas I ever ate are still in there.

�She don�t talk to me�she can�t take no sympathy because she�s highly strung��

Today�s special guests