2004-01-07 - 2:15 p.m.

Reporters Sans Frontieres has revealed that 42 journalists were killed in action in 2003, a figure almost 50 per cent higher than the previous year thanks to the invasion of Iraq and the US army being such crap shots (unless their target ranges involve shooting from distance at figure with notebooks, and wearing Trilby hats with a card with the word �Press� on it sticking out of the band).

This only worries me in a general sense as opposed to a personal one. For starters, my inclusion in said profession is still not enough to convince my Mum that I have a proper job, and for followers, I�m sure none of the brave souls who lost their lives were active in my field. Unless one of them keeled over after having been subjected to an overly complicated cocktail and choked on the umbrella, or slipped down a marble staircase after a particularly vigorous wine tasting.

It does make you look at what you do, though, and think, what an insignificant pestilent wretch I really am, having done nothing of importance, consequence, or even real coherence. If those other guys don�t file their copy, the free world plus America don�t get to receive information of vital importance. If I miss a deadline, well, the Broken Pencil Museum of Yawnsberg, Anyplace gets a couple of less visitors for about half a day. Well frost my hotpants and call me Susan.

If things were different (and I had any drive, talent or palpable integrity) then I suppose I would think about changing tack, but let�s face the facts, I would be the worst news reporter since Moses. My research skills only stretch to thumbing through glossy press kits and looking at the pictures, and the most amount of risk I�m usually prepared to take involves leaving it late to get a drink at last orders.

Thank God there are some brave people in the world.

In Lit Idle news, my novel is coming along extremely well, for which read extremely badly. Still, I have two weeks to come up with a groundbreaking epic that will stun the world of fiction. So that�s OK then.