My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.

Since the whole phone hacking thing I've noticed that the gossip feeds have gone eerily quiet, which means that either the publishers are being cautious, or everyone in the entertainment industry is behaving themselves.

Well, everyone except that wicked Sooty, of course. Of all the British celebs to end up in the shame files, I never figured the next one would be Sooty: Sooty apologises for Paul Daniels pizza-throwing injury.

It was this quote in particular that had me doubled over in mirth, but I really think you need to have grown up watching the Goodies puppet government episode, alas, but I was rotflmao to within an inch of my life.
"Sweep said Sooty was so shocked by it all that he was speechless afterwards."

Snort. Giggle. Wheeze. Yes, I am five. I've been behaving like a five year old week. I'd like to blame the nightly roadworks. There's just something about prolonged sleep deprivation (and hormones) that just makes everything more extreme.

[Update: Sooty read my guffawing tweets and replied with an unhappy face. No, really. I have distressed Sooty with my tittering and I'm sorry. I am a bad, bad person. But seriously, Sooty's on Twitter? I live in a strange, strange world - and I can show you the official reply if ye dinnae believe me.]

Anyhoo, trying to be cheerful, I note with delight that someone has at last shown young Matty how to wear a hat and wear it well. Either that or he's finally got his hands on one of my favourite books, City of Shadows, from the Police and Justice museum. I have a signed copy from the book launch - smug.

Certainly looks like it anyway. Kind of reminds me of George Sanders, too. Yes, they've been playing the old 40s Saint fillums on 7TWO in the wee small hours. J' Adore.

Forties Saint is so damn arch and tricksy and amoral. I just love those flicks to bits.
( more: love never dies )

I wish someone could see me today. I've done that thing again where I've dropped three dress sizes after three days in hell and I just want someone to see it before I spring back into Jabba mode by the end of the week.

Would that I could keep this up the whole time, but alas a diet solely consisting of whisky, flu tablets and painkillers just isn't practical when one has to hold down a proper job and household without all that 'support' that those vacuous little children in Hollywood refer to, if ever, when explaining how they maintain their fabulous jetsetting lifestyles, shiny homes and bony hips. Grumble.

Anyhoo, household managed under duress (freezing temps, annoyed parrots) and some of the mighty dvd backlog caught up on.

Just about up to date on Burn Notice, and just as well as Friday's ep went MIA from the tv schedule (if they moved it, I never found it).
( more: Roman Holiday )

This week mobile phones ring, as do wedding bells, FlashForward debuts (most number of UK actors in a US show?), Mr Owen and Mr Bettany have new films out and Mr McGregor is spotted filming in Glasgow. As always, a heroic effort by sleeper_frost in finding the greater part of these links for your perusal.
( more: Richard Armitage to play Special Forces soldier in Strike Back, The softer side of Clive Owen, Bond beauty Eva Green and Scots heartthrob Ewan McGregor turn heads with Glasgow shoot, Jack Davenport on FlashForward, Joseph Fiennes glimpses the future in hit new show FlashForward, Paul Bettany is a Bloody and Bruised Priest, Paul Bettany on stepping into Charles Darwin's shoes for Creation, Ian McKellen on The Hobbit, Scots star John Barrowman reveals all about his amazing rise to fame, David Tennant guest stars in Sarah Jane Adventures, Love is just magic for Merlin star Colin, Mobile phone disrupts Jackman and Craig's Broadway show, Macdonald's regrets over McAvoy, Filming begins on Ashes to Ashes' final series, Resurrection for Primeval series, Actor Gleeson grabs gong at annual Emmy awards, Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy Marry in France, Jude Law requests DNA tests, Stephen Moyer's Dog To Be Ringbearer, Butler 'obsessed with blackberry jam' )

Gentle reader, I put it to you that the makers of Merlin have seen the Princess Bride.
( more: spoilers, mary sues and unicorns )

King Arthur wants you to buy his flour. I'm sorry, a friend sent me an Arthur monogrammed box in the post, and I'm delighted. Also delighted with the contents, and the hot water bottle has already been deployed, because it's touched on 20C here and that's the temperature at which I start to turn blue, soft southerner that I am.

Ouch. I just accidentally spoiled myself for Torchwood but good. And it kinda puts a thick black line through just about anything I was going to dribble about in today's post, and time's up on writing that anyway.
( more: spoilerly natter )

Monday: Hey ho. Rather rubbish weekend, but at least it rained some of the time, which meant dvds! (Okay, it should have meant other things but it was bucket day so dvds it was).

And so much for my vow of no Christian Cooke. I'd entirely forgotten he played Richard Armitage's sweet young thang in the first episode of George Gently. Oh yeah, I got my mits on some George Gently and I had other stuff to watch but I caught Lee Ingleby being period copper in a Marple I'd not seen before and I was happily diverted so I decided to stay in the grove.
( more: a very special episode )

"But Ken realised it would be quite a small amount of time and would enable him to grow one of the many moustaches he hopes to grow over the course of his career." - Richard Curtis, BBC

Monday: Ow, my head. I have a thumping headache, and I actually managed to turn off my alarm in the twenty minutes of kip I managed to squeeze twixt committments, and I shoulda listened because I've been here three hours now and the best I've managed is to open notepad. Lousy technology.

So in lieu of doing something useful I'm going to tell you all about my weekend. Not that what kept me back late last night and yet more unpaid overtime was in any way useful. But I digress.
( more: I'd like to be under the sea... )

FRIDAY: Ooh, I'm getting in trouble for not reading emails. Sorry. Been really, really busy and it's way too hot for my poor old wheezing lap top. It's supposed to get up to 47C on Sunday. Everyone is saying to stay home on the weekend. Mmmm...no (and the peanut gallery is promising to wear something diaphanous, which fair boggles the mind).

And on that bombshell...no, never mind. Been a bit upset this week, more than a bit to be honest, but I've heard negativity leads to mass unfriending so I'll try to keep a lid on it. One must be peppy and entertaining above all things (even tho the server was down, my software wasn't working and my keyboard was dead, all before I'd made my first cup of tea. Keep smiling. Must not show them I'm rattled).

So there's not a lot to say about yesterday, which mercifully, I had off and even being up to my elbows in cockroach poo and worse while cleaning both kitchen and bathroom, it was still way better than being at work. Got the laundry done, carried about 27 buckets of water about the garden, cause I also had to wash out all the bottles of ex sauces etc from the ex fridge that I discovered had been left for me, for a week, in the hot sun. Mmmm, tasty. Still way better than being at work, though. And at least I've managed to get the food dye stains on my hands down so now I just look like a smoker, not a bank robber (though which is the least socially acceptable these days?) but I still smell disturbingly of old chutney and pickles, etc. All the oils of Araby won't sweeten this little hand, etc, etc.
( more: in which Murphy's Law is proven )