I felt a blast of pure grade-A nostalgia the other day at seeing a couple of familiar names in the honours list. David and Richard Darling, the superbrains behind a truckload of computer games of the 1980s, have been awarded the CBE. And rightly so.

Monday evening, as I’m sure you’re aware, was excessively hot. And I was at a gig. In a pub’s back room sans air conditioning or windows. With a lot of other people and apparently no regard for fire regulations. Overheated, intoxicated bodies writing around to the music. It was great for the atmosphere, just not for the smell. Which was a potent mixture of beer and spirits and sweat. Predominantly sweat.

There are many things your correspondent truly sucks at: sport, maths, dealing with authority figures. But without doubt the shining beacon in the sea of my incompetence is having my photo taken with famous people.

Arena managed to stand the screaming and booing for long enough last night to ascertain that there is at least one babe in the new Big Brother house. But who’s the best ever?

Oh no. Fern Britton’s five stone weight loss was medically assisted. Rather than ‘walking the dog and not eating too much’ (two feats of human endurance that apparently earned her the respect of housewives up and down the country) she needed a piece of silicone fitted over her stomach, helpfully amplifying the little voice inside her head telling her to ’stop fucking eating’. Personally, I didn’t give a shit, but it was gratifying to read her confession. See, I have my own secret…

Book publishing and selling in this country is in a parlous state. On my way through Borders on Oxford St the other day (I was getting a coffee), I noticed more magazines, cards, computer programs and board games than actual tomes. Vast and brightly lit, the place has an inherently stressful feel to it, like a supermarket. Could Publishing On Demand, a kind of literary MySpace, be the answer?

There’s a bit of a fuss going on at the moment about a guy called Hassan Butt. You may know him from such quotes as, “One day I may even be called a terrorist, if Allah permits me. That is something it would be an honour to be called” and “I have no problem with the British people, but if someone attacks them, I have no problem with that either.” Riiiight. Hassan Butt is a nobhead – and I happen to know that first-hand.