So tense, never tenser...

Ooh-er.

The controversy at The Oval rages on; cries of ball-tampering, cheating and biased umpires abound. I must say, actuellement, I'm with Inzi and the opposition on this one. Surely, if anything untoward had happened, one of Sky's four million (or something) cameras would have picked it up. As it is, nothing. That, though, is nothing in comparison to the, frankly, embarassing and inadequate handling of the situation by the ICC. Ah, how I love bureaucrats.

My God. It is raining as if it were monsoon season outside. Reminding me, of course, of how I love this fair isle...

And yesterday a revelatory incident was fashioned, though, as not to offend those involved, I'm not going to go into major details. But I feel incredibly uncomfortable with the convictions of some people, as if they are the only ones, with their bias and bigotry, who know anything about race relations in England.

Give me a fucking break.

I'm extremely ill at ease with the ideas projected by conservative Middle England, when it comes to Islam and the ordinary asian community. This year I have met more pretentious pricks than I would care for. The kind of people who turn their noses up at the working classes, 'up north' and the like, not realising that some of them are the best and most hard-working in this country. And yeah, fine, The Sun might not be the most intellectual publication but, having read pretty much every newspaper over the past few weeks, it encourages better race-relations more than any other. And, lets face it, it's got the biggest readership and the most influence.

Right. My brief rant is over.

Still raining. My brother, Ali, Joe and the Colvers are hiding in the garage eating Fabs, which I, as the generous hostess, am providing. Though mostly this is to get them to shut up so I can, once this is done, turn my attention to the rather unappealing subject of French verbs. Or, possibly, American Psycho, which is a fantastic book, even though it has caused me to bite my lip and cringe in the more explicit scenes. And I skip over the orgies; not really my style.

Results on Thursday, joy of joys. I have high expectations of myself, which as a general rule means I will be disappointed...

...But I'll get over it, especially when I get my wages. I will try and persuade Jeffa to take me to Ray Lamontagne and all will be well with the world again.

"She didn't say anything, just looked at me like I was the opposite of civilisation or something."