First up, I'm feeling much better and back to my normal old shit rolling self this week after me Mum slipped me a worming tablet wrapped up in a bit of ham, so all's well and all that. Second up, I am delighted to hear that S Club 7 are to reform. Coldplay must be shitting themselves this morning I reckon. I'm sure I saw one of the birds from S Club on the telly the other week, in one of those "I used to be a celebrity but now I'm a middle aged porker with a couple of kids and nobody recognises me any more in the queue at Tesco's so I may have to resort to getting my tits out but even Razzle won't touch me with a barge pole, woe is me" documentaries that are so interesting. Pooh count: just the one, but now that my constitution is back to normal it was as big as family-size Toblerone.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.