7:28 p.m.
/
23 February, 2004

Cliff Richard is the best selling artist of all time, followed by the Beatles and then Elvis. This is not a world I want to live in. I feel so disgusted with my species. I'm gonna have to bring that guy down somehow. I'm going to make it really clever, hopefully involving tennis and aurally offensive Christmas songs. You know, I could cope with the freaky turn in international politics, I could take the fact that, when on the island, I'm not allowed out after dark if I want to remain intact, I can even take the fact that Tony Blair went on the Simpsons, but this is UNFORGIVABLE.

My mother has just started having an affair with one of my stepfather's friends. Karma takes its time, but sure does one hell of a job. I'm staying out of it, by the way, not cheering them on as one would expect. I assume she knows what she's doing.

The NUS has called a strike this week, during my reading week, dammit! At the very least they could have done it when I actually had some classes to boycott. It's quite timely, since I got a letter this morning telling me that they were cutting off my student loan. My mother showed me the letter, and then when I'd almost reached hysteria, explained that she'd already called all the important people and everything was okay again. She's quite cruel, you know, it must be where I get it from.

I keep having quite epic dreams. I think it's something to do with my bedroom, since I only have them in my bed at home. I'm always some kind of Joan of Arc character, who has to defend justice, honour and the right to... do whatever. It's probably a symptom of how bored I am in real life. Still, they get pretty gruesome once I have a sword in my hand. I think becoming a veggie made me eternally bloodthirsty.