2002-11-19 - 4:24 p.m.

When keyboard-molesting dwarf Billy J*el tied the knot with dancing mechanic-inspiring model Christie Brinkl*y, he said that �It gives hope to every short, ugly guy on the planet.� Of course, by the word �guy�, he actually meant �knowingly smug, caviar smoking, yacht-snorting, solid-gold cornflake eating, pipsqueak multi-gazillionaire�, which is a very different proposition. Had Billy really been the grease-monkey responsible for adjusting the shock absorbers on her jalopy, I think we can safely say that the chances of him using his dipstick to check her oil levels would have been greatly reduced. It was a noble sentiment, but utter horseshit, of course (Celebrities should never marry outside their genus, anyway � when Drew B*rrymore married that Welsh milkman for 45 seconds, it almost bought the whole system crashing down).

I don�t know what made me think of this � perhaps it was the last hope that I could blindly hold onto in the increasing certainty of my spending the rest of my life buying jars of pureed monkey glands for one and being an awkward addition to any dinner party, lest I try in my mindless desperation to hit on an elderly relative or, and give it five more years, a minor piece of dining room furniture.

I think it may be the fact that the cute girl that I�ve passed at the bus stop for the last five years or so seems to have finally found a boyfriend. They were openly canoodling in the queue for the 253 this morning. He�s got a big coat and eyes. It was particularly disappointing as I was only going to give it another year and a half before saying hello, but there you have it.

My mum thinks I should spend less time working and more time trying to find �someone nice�, which just goes to show that her at-best speculatory handle on my priorities is even more tenuous than I�d previously given her credit for.