touch me

If I was going to write something on a Sunday night - well, this Sunday night certainly - it would probably be about how I loathe the early episodes of each series of Australian Idol, which are are about the ritual humiliation of the talentless and cloth-eared. Not to mention those who have grown up in an age when it seems that the only meaningful expression of self is to be a 'celebrity', and who get all hurt and uppity when told they are talentless, cloth-eared, and so on.

I know - with a sinking feeling not unlike when you know you're caught a bug and are about to get very ill - that at some stage I'll get sucked in by the way a couple of the contestants will rise to the challenge and will, measurably and in front of our very eyes (and ears), get much, much better.

Well I wasn't going to write that, but it's a little late now, innit?

What I should be doing is amalgamating all the assorted little scribbled notes from the last week into a new to-do list for this week, a task that will simultaneously allow me to prioritise all that has to be prioritised.

Ah fuckit, I can do that tomorrow morning.

Or later, such as immediately before one of the more prioritised activities actually has to be performed.

Instead, I will link you to a memorably nostalgic piece by AA Gill in which he proves that he can do other things apart from skewering incompetent restaurateurs.

I think you will enjoy.

But if you didn't...oh OK then, here you go:

3. "Can I touch it?" See above. It will always
be springier than you thought and slightly clammy.

Update:

''We've conflated the idea of importance and value with being famous,'' he says.

Shame I only ran across this after posting.