The one piece of housework that has been done since last Friday was when Leonie washed up her lasagne dish (quelle star -- she can come again). Since then, I have managed to only mop a bit and hoover. All else has fallen by the wayside. I have muchos catching up to do and no energy to do it. But I will prevail.

I swore to myself that I would not get on the computer today because it distracts me but I haven't moaned at anyone in over 24 hours so here I am, sweating and tired. Or maybe it was that I hopped on to gloat that I had once again managed to shower and shave. I forget which. Ah yes, I do remember. It was to thank you all for the get-well messages (sic). :)

I haven't been ill in 18 months. Yeah, the occasional slight bug but nothing that knocks you off your feet. That said, it could be worse; at least I battered the crossword in under 10 minutes and I did manage to get out to the shop for some cigs (which are essential in any recovery).

Noid, I went to the pig sniffs site and like you, graduated with honors. I even have a handy-dandy authorization code for Tamiflu. Can I be arsed? No. Apparently it is only effective if you start it within 24/36 hours so I am at least a day late. Let us just treat it as man-flu, the antidote being endless bitching and moaning about how awful we feel.

I fully intend to sleep the rest of the day away while watching utter tripe on TV and twittering nonsense. Let us see what 05:30 brings tomorrow.

I do love Lemsips though. They should make a version without the paracetamol and with honey and caffeine so we could sup them all day. That would be sweet.

From an email exchange with the Waaart earlier...

K: ...which just compounds my guilt. Do you think I'm Catholic?

W: Ha ha ha. That's made me laugh. You might be a bit lapsed for my money ;-) [The fact you turn into a pillar of salt on consecrated ground is a bit incompatible with Catholicism].

Forgive me. I have probably more paracetamol in me than you guys have in your cupboards, combined. And I'm sure "He" would not approve of that because suffering is what it's all about, non?

Currently, I am being bombarded with emails and tweets goading me about he who shall not be named but is now on Man Utd's books after a free transfer from somewhere Northeast of here.

I sit here a broken man. My head feels like it wants to leave the building, but you shall get your joy...

Shortly after the deal had gone through I had a meeting about penetration testing with a Man Utd fan. I reeled out the banjo/cow old faithful. In response he said to me "this is true, but at Newcastle, he was furnished with neither a banjo nor a cow's arse to hit".

Those words have been stuck in my craw for weeks.

We are now to the point where I have to concede that he may be right, albeit that it kills me to say it.

My biggest complaint about the donkey is that he should not be on the England team. My biggest fear is that he will start scoring goals for us and end up back on the England team, where he has no business being.

If I am wrong about him, I will hold my hands up, take it on the chin and wherever else you care to put it, BUT this is not over yet. A few friendlies against modest opponents does not maketh the man.

God, I feel sick having written that. I await your derision.

followed by coughs, sneezes etc.

The Daily Mail writes about alarmism.

No irony there then?

H1N1? Didn't even take a Lemsip. I've had worse afflictions while shopping in Harrods. In fact, I'm thinking either that a) I have unicorn flu, b) have had too great a time for a week, c) skimped on vegetables or d) I'm so cynical, not even a virus can stand me -- (that last option was put forward by the Vanquisher in a venomous tirade).

Ah well, I need to be up at some point tomorrow but it will be later than my usual getting up before I go to bed.

Doff of the cap to the lass who introduced me to and then forced me to (with menaces) download some Stina Nordenstoum. I'll be downloading the rest of your recommendations in due course.

Catch you all on the dark side, after the revolution.

The Vanquisher and I went to the Tudor yesterday lunchtime for an all-day breakfast (it was enormous), which turned into an all-night chatathon. We bumped into an old friend of the V, who was so utterly charming that we stayed up very late listening to her music tastes and generally being juvenile.

Okay, charming is a euphemism. I'm thinking more adorable or, were I not so conscious of the V's feelings, gorgeous. She has the maddest blue eyes, shares much the same tastes in music as I do and can sing like an angel. What's not to fall for? Unfortunately, she thought I was the V's dad. How utterly depressing is that? I tried to pull the line that an income compensates for youth and good looks but she was having none of it.

I think yesterday was excellent for two reasons. I must now realize that I am 0x28 and that pretty young things should not be the first thing on my mind. Also, I'm hoping that the V has now acquired a lass. That may sound very selfless but it's completely not. I'm just hoping that he has a acquired a lass who I can see more often because I know she has the ability to make me smile.

She's a gem V. A very, very, very good call. And Leonie, if you read this, I'm lying -- by gorgeous, I meant blistered arse of trout -- don't want your ego getting too high do we?

I wish I was 0x18 again.

What kind of a shop opens at 08:00? I've usually been on the go for nearly three hours by then. I'm a busy Kenny with places to go and people to see. For example, I have to go have lunch at the Tudor, just for the quality cuisine of course, not because of any of the barmaids (cough).

Seriously though, the British are, in general, a bit crap at making the most of a day. One thing I loved about the US was that people had similar sleeping habits to me; it was not uncommon for them to be in work at 07:00. Carpe diem and all that. I cannot be bothered going back to the store now. It will have to wait until tomorrow.

While I'm feeling grouchy and anti-British, I wish the media would shut the hell up about the pig sniffs. Producing inflammatory headlines (no pun intended) like \"100,000 new cases in last seven days\" is like pressing the national panic button. Apparently when the helpline went live yesterday, they were averaging 2600 calls an hour.

My brother has been sick for a week. No doubt he has been recorded as being a case of H1N1 although his doctor did not feel the need to test him or his daughter. The fact is that more people will die of normal flu than will through this half-hearted flu. Yup, you'll feel crap for a week, but it will pass and soon you'll be back to feeling paranoid about unicorn flu or whatever the hell the next non-event is. Don't get me wrong, I hope you don't get it because any flu is rough but in the vast scheme of things, it's not really all that important is it?

On more positive notes: I was pleasantly surprised to switch on BBC1 this morning and see none other than Cruella sat on the sofa being delightfully clever. Also Tasha has posted her pics from India (not sure if that link will work if you're not on her friends list on FB). They are fantastic. She's added one more to my list of places that I have never been to but want to go (on top of Moscow, Sydney and Peru). Damn you lady!

Right...I'm sure I have domesticity to attend to and a mango to eat. I'm sure I'll be back later.

There is nothing that paralyzes me more than being asked to do TV/radio things. I left a message on Victoria Derbyshire's Facebook thing concerning the cricket. It was not poignant or eloquent, just a "hmmm".

The message was:

Toppo makes a good point. Brett Lee could be our undoing. As much as I love KP's flare, he's been disappointing. That sweep of a ball that most of us would not even have thought of cutting was just pants.

On the subject of "resting" players, look at what Sir Ian Botham did in the early eighties. Nearly three times as much work. They are pampered nowadays.

Two minutes later, an email appeared. I know this is not common because I quite regularly comment on Victoria's show...

Victoria sent you a message.

--------------------
Subject: Hello

Hi Kenny ,
Wondered if we could get you involved in the chat we're having about KP this morning. Please give us a call on <number> or send us your number.

I did a single radio interview in the US once and it scared me like nothing mortal ever could. Shortly after, I was asked to go on TV. Not a cat in hell's chance people. You can stick me on TV when I'm dead, if you must.

The BBC can quote me if they wish, but I am not about to go on air live. That is for people without nerves.

You will not often hear these words from me...

We know my nigh-on passionate hatred of the scousers (I have stopped capitalizing that because it implies a respect that I do not have) don't we? Well how smug are you going to feel when I say I really feel for Steven Gerrard?

I sincerely do. I think he is a genuinely nice chap. We have all been in situations where for some mad reason we feel the best way to get something over with is to just the punch the protagonist's lights out. From reading the report of his interview, it sounds as if he acted fairly. If someone threatens you, nature kicks in and you slap 'em one. His evidence cites the fact that he threw three punches, only one of which connected: that sounds pretty measured to me.

I get angry with this kind of thing. It's a European wussiness. In the States, you can defend yourself. In Europe we victimize those who stand up for themselves. It is all down to the creeping Jesus syndrome that says we should never offend anyone, ever. Even if we flossed thrice, gargled with Listerine and spent half our time in complete silence, someone would be offended. Get over it. Turn the other cheek when you can and bathe in the righteousness but you'll know when you need to get medieval.

Stevie G has my complete support on this one.

Kennywire, Wigan, July 22nd 2009 -- for immediate release. Kenny watches American film and laughs.

The Big Lebowski took Kenny by surprise last night by being both incredibly funny and American. \"The two words are not synonymous in my mind\" said Kenny from the balcony of his penthouse apartment in Kabul where it is rumored that he is holding the barmaid from the Tudor.

\"Its premise is so bizarre that even I could not have come up with it. When people are more deranged than I am, I feel there is some justice in the world\" he continued.

Kenny has long been a non-fan of US films just because, broadly speaking, they are pants. Indeed he was once quoted as having said \"even the French manage comedy -- what are the Americans thinking?\".

The news is bound to make the front pages of all the quality press tomorrow. You heard it here first.

First up, I have the feeling that it is the Vanquisher's birthday today. I've seen him every day for the past three and he has never mentioned it. The first I knew of it was when he sang happy birthday to himself on Twitter -- you should follow him @donkey_rhubarb if only for the ludicrous number of facts that he so kindly provides us with.

Secondly, why is it that I made it to well over half way to my three-score and ten without knowing anything about Carole King? The Vanquisher is in his twenties and has known about this for years. This is kind of like being sat in the Holiday Inn in Binghamton chatting with Holly (25 tops) and asking her \"who's this that you are playing?\" and her replying \"Joni Mitchell. The same Joni Mitchell I've played every night for four years.\" Epic fail Kenny. Can you believe I was 33 when I discovered Joni? Wrong on so many levels. I remember getting back to Minneapolis (miss you MN) and demanding that we hit Best Buy to purchase some Joni -- Nski groaned. \"Oh God, you have no culture at all do you? What do they raise you on in England? How can you not know Joni? Idiot. I'm going to have to suffer this for weeks now aren't I? I hate you.\"

Rob, if it is your birthday, have a good one. And cheers for the Carole King tip. Loving it. There's something Karen Carpenter about her. She sounds like she never hit a bum note in her life.

That's a totally inadequate description of today. I have been laugh out loud happy.

Freddie's performance this morning was epic. I complemented it with a bit of this.

Facebook too has had me in hysterics. Many moons ago I spoke to Gaz about the fact that we needed to get to the chippy before the oiks did. He's piucked that one up and run with it. If you are on my FB list, you'll see the joy along with the victim.

I'm creased up with laughter. I have not laughed as hard in years.

I feel for you people at work, but not too deeply. There is nothing better than being sat at home goading your mates.

Okay Waaarty, here are a couple of shots from last night. These, in no way, do her justice.

I can feel another bout of alimony happening as I type.

Big wow.

To console myself I'm off out with the Vanquisher to double-check last night's realization that the most gorgeous lass on the planet works in the Tudor in Wigan.

So the Vanquisher and I headed off into Wigan last night, chock full of McDonalds. We had said hello at the Ben Johnson and all was going beautifully. One of life's non-savants engaged us as we got the bus. It lasted long enough to get to Goose Green yet we covered everything from astral-projection to Kylie (bastard) Minogue.

The good news is that we hit the Tudor quite early.

As The Vanquisher said, and he had deliberated on this a while, \"she's so gorgeous you feel like you'd auction your mother before a jury, afore sundown\". I cannot disagree.

We are, of course, referring to the barmaid in the Tudor. It has been a long time since I had any kind of \"wow\" happen to me, but that was a serious wow. The lass in question must have won some kind of galactic lottery when she was awarded her genes. I ran out of superlatives about half way down my first pint. I feel another visit there coming on all too soon.

Anyway back to the real world, in case I haven't mentioned it, there is some cricket going on. I almost don't want this game to finish. The instant gratification need I have should be stymied. The glorious longer term goal of making the Aussies suffer should be prevalent. But it isn't. I want to see them bleed slow and long so they are utterly demoralized for Brum but my over-riding urge to see them capitulate is winning.

Maybe this is why I have two ex-wives? Hmm. I shall ponder that one a while.

In the meantime, I have a sirloin to cook.

I am alive. That will reassure some, disappoint others and positively devastate those who are the potential beneficiaries of my death.

The facts are that I have been busy at work and there has been the small matter of some Ashes cricket to be absorbed. Because I have Sky Sports HD at home, I can login to the Sky website and watch the cricket so every down moment at work has been spent doing that. When I have arrived home, the TV has been on and the cricket continues. It is so addictive that I have had to move the Macbook into the lounge so I can keep up with @BumbleCricket and general twitterage while still being able to watch the game. And what a game it is.

Most Americans can give up here because what follows will mean absolutely nada to you. To the rest, I have questions...

If you manage to get the Aussies in a position where you can enforce the follow on at Lords, where the pitch is historically so much easier to bat on in the final days of a test, why would you not do so? I am baffled. Surely the game plan should be stick the feckers in again and know your target. What we are now dealing with is a series of "ifs". As it happens, we are not looking in too bad a position. Off the Nelson for two wickets with KP and Bopari at the wicket. We need to nail down the game plan here. KP is looking edgy -- he's trying to play a staid innings. I would have thought we would have asked him to go out and have fun. "Score as many as you can for however long you can." By the end of today, I would want a lead of 550. Then I would turn to Freddie and the bloody fantastic @JimmyAnderson9 (Jimmy Anderson) in the morning and say "do your worst". Beating the Aussies at Lords hasn't happened in my lifetime or in my father's lifetime. This is to be seized upon. Two days to bowl out the Aussies? Can't be that hard can it? We have five bowlers, seven if you look at the part-timers.

This is what summers are all about. Leather on willow and the gentle drone of the radio or David Lloyd. I have been more productive today than I am usually, simply because I can just kick back, listen and watch. By noon today, I had finished the crossword, vacuumed, done the dishes, done two lots of laundry, polished and watched the tail-end of the Aussie batting crew disappear off my to-do list. With next week off, I could probably put off ironing until next week, but being the trooper that I am, I'll wait for the tea break and get stuck in. At the end of play, there will be some weavage and an outing somewhere for the evening with the Vanquisher. I'm fancying a trek into Wigan although I have not discussed that with Rob yet. I figure that if my luck is so good at the moment (cf cricket, work, domesticity), it's not a bad gamble.

The week has not been entirely peachy in that Nski has been unpleasant, but hey, she's 5000 miles and a dream apart. The here and now is what counts and it doesn't get much better than this.

All you expats in Oz, who have been so vocal in your support of the Aussies, I issue a derisory snort in your general direction. I was going to out every last one of you, but there are too many to even count let alone personally insult.

I hope everyone is having such a great day. Apart from the Aussies of course, because this is war, and we are winning it.

I spent some time on the phone this morning with the PM I have most involvement with at the moment. Normally we share divorce diatribes but this morning we were discussing what I waaarted on about yesterday: \"win\" or \"epic fail\". After we had gone through the fact that there was no continuous explanation, we agreed that we had not achieved an \"epic fail\". I was quite amused that she played the game.

Since then something else has reared its ugly head again and I emailed her an FYI asking for some help. I forwarded reams of dialogue to her and pleaded that she assist. The response? \"Epic! Will talk to <chap> tomorrow.\"

To those not in the know, it might seem like an ignore. To those in the know, it means she's got it. All this proves is my point that if you get people of similar mindsets, things work.

Yet again you should be chanting the mantra that Kenny is right. As is the PM.

And with that nugget of non-information, I am going to bed. Yesterday I was beat and then ended up on IM with pseudo-boss until about midnight. Tonight, I will reclaim those hours.

Schlaft güt meine kleine liebings.

Seldom is life this good...

I'm so chuffed, I've booked next week off as holiday.

As my old mucker, mentor and oracle of all things I cannot be bothered remembering or working out, one Evil Albert used to say, \"I will not need much rocking to sleep tonight.\" Do not comment on the frequency of commas in that last train-wreck of a sentence; I am way too bushed to even think grammatical correctness.

When I get home at the end of the day, have kicked my imaginary cat, ignored my household duties and am sat staring at my work email from home, I generally like to do an assessment of whether it was worth it. I don't like to be too woolly so I give myself a choice of \"win\" or \"epic fail\". I finished last week off feeling that I should grade myself an epic fail. The first two days of this week though, different story. Many wins on many levels.

It's rather ironic that your tendency to success is very directly related to working with people of the same mindset. All the companies I have ever worked at (4 if you don't count acquisitions, 7 if you do) that have been successful hired people with the same attitude above all else. All the epic fails have been after acquisition where two cultures collide.

I regard my time at CYBE in the US as being a learning exercise now. Once you get into a really big company, having the experience of being a board-level report in medium sized companies helps greatly because you can anticipate the seemingly vacuous but ultimately loaded facile questions that are asked of you. If you're bright enough, you end up developing an innate ability to spin. In some respects, I hate that in myself because I have this purist view of the world that says the truth will out anyway, so why go down the lipstick/pig route? The other side of me says it's not a bad way to do things in that you do carefully think through the positives and negatives of a situation to a point where you have distilled your views down to truth and bone to get to that point where you can spin. Horrible conundrum.

I had an email conversation with Waaarty and McMaest early this morning before Meetingsville TN that I could not really engage in where we started talking about right and wrong. Rather than paraphrase, I will take Waaarty's views on the subject and quote them (edited to avoid sub judice):

\"I have a very French view of these things (so no surprises there). In France there isn't really a strong notion of things being \"right\" or \"wrong\" in the sense of correctness rather than morality (which is a whole other story). Things are either \"interesting\" or \"not so interesting\", and it's the \"interest\" of a comment that is *far* more important than whether it has any basis in fact or not (although basis in fact my be one subjective criterion you use to decide whether it's interesting or not). In french, to say some guy is right you say \"Il a raison\" or \"he has reason\", which is wonderfully open. I.e. he might not be right but he has a good argument.\"

I was going to quote the rest (quite a bit) but it started getting a tad personal and I'm sure the Waaart would not thank me for that.

I think this is one French concept I can agree on. I know -- stop the press. What it says to me is that I must suppress my instinctive dislike of spinning and look to the greater good that it enables. If I have thought through something so well that I can present positives and negatives so discretely (Powerpoint speak if you will), then I have reason.

Thank you Waaarty. You have made my whole corporate whoring day much more palatable. So when I come home and think \"win\" for the day, it is largely down to a different perspective along with some tangible successes. I shall now get the sleep of the just.

One thing I will not thank you for though, is telling me I'm in too techie a mood at the moment. To be honest, nothing could be further from the truth. I'm definitely in Maest space at the moment. My unprincipled ninja colleague has a phrase \"knitting fog\". That is exactly what I am doing. Weaving a path to sanity through intangibles.

And if that pile of mumbo-jumbo doesn't prove I am sleeping on my feet, nothing will. Maybe I should just stick to screen-shotting Bumble's tweetage and posting Stevie Nicks songs that distract Stan?

\"Afore I went\" (another quote from a local guru), I must welcome Tasha back from India. We want photos, and lots of them. As you can see, we kind of strayed while you were gone. :)

I shared this with Zimmer last night at a blistering 2 electrons a decade. It finally got there. It is one of my favorite songs ever. Given I am most likely to be tied up in meetings all day, I thought it might be nice to share some love early on in the day. Somewhere in the depths of my backups, I think I have Stevie Nicks doing this live -- I shall try to resurrect it at some point.

Those of you who have listened to the news this morning will no doubt have come here expecting some contempt. Consider your expectations met.

29,000 government officials on the public payroll in the UK. That does not include MEPs.

It is absolutely obscene.

Can I start ranting about revolution again?

Most of you will be relieved that the football season has finished, so I will stop waaarting on about it until August. What you may not have factored into the equation is that there is the not unimportant matter of the Ashes to suffer.

As I type, England are being given a lesson in hunger. For what is, for the most part, a distinctly average Australian side, they are making us poms look like wazzocks of the first order. Ponting has completely outwitted Strauss on every metric available. The man is a master-tactician.

If you've been watching, you'll have seen some field placements that have not been used in decades. This is like watching cricket form the late seventies/early eighties. When have you seen a straight silly mid-off used in professional cricket in the last thirty years? I struggle. Leg-slips? I might even venture a leg-gulley.

The result is awful as a Brit, but you have to admire the Aussies.

I think that last sentence sums up why we are losing. As a Brit, it's all jolly hockey sticks and didn't our opponents do well. Not so the Aussies. They want to win at all costs. It is in their blood. Siddle has just piled in a bouncer on a five day old wicket. In order to get it to bounce, he had to put so much effort into it that he literally could not remain upright after he bowled. He's an average bowler but he cares so deeply that he is putting in a Herculean effort.

I fear our reliance on KP and Freddie will gift the Ashes back to the Antipodes over the next few weeks. Day five and we're already two tests down because, let's face it, we never win at Lords. This is God's punishment for not holding a test match at Old Trafford. We deserve everything we get.

At least we still have @bumblecricket to amuse us.

What did I do before I discovered Bumble's tweets?

Class.

It's not even noon and I have managed to fit a full day into the two hours I've been awake.

I rolled out of bed thinking that I shouldn't be rolling out of bed, but I knew I had jobs to do before I sat back and watched the cricket being rained off. I'd just sat down with my first brew of the day and a face appeared in the window. The victim that I thought I had ditched for good was there. Apparently she works just down the road from here now and had managed to trigger an alarm at her place of work or some such nonsense and was in blind panic. You can't exactly turn someone away when they are in that state, even if it is down to their lack of any intellect. I went through the motions -- made her a brew, called the police to let them know it was a false alarm and then surrendered the phone while she called whomever to sort the situation out. I drove her back to where she should be (i.e. not my house) and hit Homebase.

Since I moved in, I have been bereft of a plug for the basin in the bathroom, which makes shaving an arse of a job. For some reason, I felt motivated to fix that problem. Let me say that I will be spending more time in Homebase than I have historically. Forget the pubs and clubs of Wigan: all Wigan's toppest of top totty works in Homebase. It is totty central.

I was very lucky in that the first plug that I bought was too big, so I had to go back and exchange it, while being advised on the difference between a standard 1.5" plug and a 1.25" proprietary plug. I was captivated. I haven't a clue what the hell she was on about at all, but it came across as highly sagacious. I nodded earnestly while I asked whether she was sure that this was the right one. Repeatedly. Apparently the lass in question knows her onions since I now have a plug that fits. Kind of a shame, because I was looking forward to going back. I must now find a new job to do.

While I'm feeling sociable, I may nip down to ye olde parentals to see their dog.

Oooh. Do Homebase sell quality tax disc holders? I should go back and check.

I think that, from now on, I am going to declare myself a Lloydist...

As I said, on Twitter, he is a national treasure of the same importance as Stephen Fry. A God amongst men.

I'm off out to shoot some pool for an hour.

After a huge defection of Guardian readers to the Telegraph, the Guardian have come up with their own little scoop. Apparently Murdoch's News International Group (more specifically the News of the World -- you will note I did not call it a newspaper) have been tapping the mobile phones of celebs and politicians. There are, allegedly thousands.

Five Live had an ex-Met officer on who related tales of invoices from private investigators to News International with quite explicit charges such as \"Charge for telephone interception of <insert celeb here>\".

Regardless of who shot who in the what and the endless stream of experts desperate to make a name for themselves who have been rolled out to comment, I find this whole story a little far fetched.

As we all know, I work for one of the bigger mobile phone companies and, insert plug here, the one with undoubtedly the best 3G coverage in the country (check Ofcom's site). I will admit that the mobile phone network is a special kind of black magic to me. I deal in IP networks not weird base station and switch site madness. However I think I understand enough of the mobile side of things to seriously doubt whether this is possible on such a large scale (the allegations are that thousands were tapped).

I'm seriously speculating here but the only way that I can see this working is to spoof being the recipient and take the call and then act as some kind of reverse-proxy to relay the signal to the recipient. I guess that must be possible since you can do call forwarding. I'm sure you can't just pull signals from the ether and decrypt them; in the bad old days of analogue signals, I used to have a gadget that allowed me to scan the airwaves for mobile phone traffic and you could intercept (although I'm sure that was technically illegal so I swear I never did it, honest mi'lud). The move to a digital network took away that guilty little pleasure.

I think the biggest and boldest barrier to managing to intercept a mobile phone call is that you would have to be borderline genius. If you have the skills to succeed in doing this, I'm sure you would be worth a mint to the phone companies and by a mint, I mean orders of magnitude more than the tabloid press would be willing to pay, so why would you bother?

Even if, and that's a big if, you managed it once, I doubt you'd have the time to automate it such that you could intercept thousands of people's calls. It would take a small data center just to process it.

The assistant commissioner at the Met, one John Yates, publicly stated that the Met have not managed to prove any of the allegations. I think that speaks volumes. If we as a very security conscious company cannot provide the Met with irrefutable proof that calls were intercepted to a degree where the Met would be happy, I think it is safe to say that this has not happened. At least, not in the manner reported.

I know, there is a precedent; that of News International tapping the phone of the FA chairman and allegedly some of the royal family's staff. I need to research that to find out whether it was fixed line or mobile. I think more to the point, whether there was any hardware involved in a 007 style bug.

I can possibly understand the interception of mobile phone messages because that is an easy steal. All you need to know is the phone number and PIN of the intended buggee and you can dial from any phone in the world and collect their voicemail.

I'm sure those who know more about the networking side of mobile telecoms will wade in and correct me if I'm wrong but at this point in time, I am calling an epic BLUFF. I smell a sugar-coated conspiracy theory. We all love to believe that these things can happen -- usually it turns out to be that journos, for the most part, are in awe of technology and believe the dream.

As I say, I'm not for a moment pretending that I am utterly right on this one. I'd be interested to hear others' opinions on the matter. I fully intend canvasing my compadres in the mobile world (specifically security) tomorrow to get their view on it. I think I'll put a tenner on me not being too far off the mark.

Update: As Zimmer says in the comments, apparently it was hacking voicemail not phone tapping. This is a much more pedestrian affair. The way the radio was covering it yesterday evening, you could be forgiven (and I am) for thinking it was genuine tapping. Most journos really do not get tech at all. The phone part (albeit the most sensational piece they could focus on) is probably the least significant piece. The bigger story is how low the press will go to scratch out a nothing story and moreover, how when they have a story, they go for the most sensational angle (be that true or not).

Yes, I am still alive, albeit tired beyond belief. Last night, I was such a girl that I went to bed at 9:30. I wish I could say that it rid me of fatigue but I still feel like I should have slept another three or four hours. Roll on Saturday.

Anyway, the reason for my brief visit here is to talk about the Ashes. For those of you who like the cricket, I have two recommendations for you. @bumblecricket is David Lloyd and as such is hilarious, and for a rather more middle-class BBC experience, @Aggerscricket which is Jonathan Agnew. Here is the type of thing you get from Lloyd:

Aside from the fact that the end of the world is happening just to the West of the Pennines (visibility about 30 feet, torrential rain), all I have to report that is of any interest whatsoever is that last night I had to swerve to avoid a chicken walking down the middle of the outside lane of the M62. I was doing 85mph as I approached said feathered beastie. It may have been a lucky little bird with me, however I do not fancy its overall odds.

Those of you who follow my Twitterage will know that the lady with the kittens returned yesterday with clamorous commentary on the tennis and her asthma. At one point yesterday afternoon, having seen about 15 comments on Facebook regarding her return, I started to feel guilty about being so unkind. Indeed the volume had reduced somewhat and my paranoia genes kicked in, thinking someone at work may have seen the Twitter/FB update and mentioned it to her, at which point I would declare myself an utter bastard for being so callous (after all, she is not the devil incarnate by any means). That vague pang of regret vanished just as soon as I had acknowledged it, as a cacophonous soliloquy was delivered on the merits of various mobile phones. Seriously, I do feel bad about it. I shall mention it no more.

Finally, I love saying this just to annoy my coworkers -- have you noticed how quickly the nights are drawing in?

Right -- bacon butty and then off to "the other place" for a workshop where I will randomly make up technical theories in order to justify what I think we should do. They will be delivered with such unfaltering confidence that even I will believe them.

I am only half bunburying today. The normal Sunday routine has been interrupted by an urgent need to paint a room. Lunch was to be at the house that was being painted. If there is one thing I cannot abide in this world -- I say one thing, there are many -- it is smell of wet paint. That, right there, is a three day headache so I feel I am on a divinely sanctioned bunbury. Whatever, I have things to do.

I got my Robin Hood groovathon on yesterday evening so the ironing fell by the wayside. At about midnight last night, I finally finished series three. It is classic. The BBC really do make some top drama.

The plans for today involve absolutely nothing other than to manage one last day of avoiding tennis on TV. How sweet it will be to be able to drive home tomorrow evening with Drive on the radio rather than utter tosh as people try to radio commentate on a game that is the antithesis of commentatable (okay, I made that word up).

If anything interesting happens, I will be sadly disappointed but will obviously let you know. The crossword awaits.

I love this song for so many reasons. And because I am waiting for the spin cycle to complete, I cannot hop on the good foot and get the bad ironing done, so I thought I would share it.

You will remember (maybe) that I mentioned that local government is an arse of biblical proportions. You might even remember that once I had corrected my council tax obligation, I received a letter saying that they had accepted it and that my payment was due 2 days before the letter had been sent. Today's post yielded a winner:

Why is this happening to me? Have I been so awful? In this life I have many peccadilloes but few venal or cardinal sins. Well, okay, my moral compass has strayed a few times, but that was usually due to really good looking women and in my defense, I did marry them.

Prior to today, I held the unit of Henry as the ultimate in wrongness. This unholy alliance transcends that scale and enters into mathematical spheres I have seldom contemplated. I used to think wrong was discrete and real, but right here we are faced with a situation that is out there in i-omega land. We're looking at a position akin to discovering that the world is not really flat and that the sun does not revolve around the earth, all at the same point in time.

I am gutted.

What is worse is that if he manages not to do his meta-tarsals tripping over a blade of grass in training, and Heaven forbid, scores a goal, people will talk about sticking him back in the England team. And so close to the world cup. That, I hope I never ever see. Failing the production of a stick protruding from his forehead with a carrot on it, I can see no hope.

Let us never mention him by name again. He is not his name, but like Macbeth, he shalled be called the accidental Welshman, or donkey, whichever you prefer.

What was that song from Mash? "Suicide is painless."

As some of you will have noticed, my trip to Brizzle was canceled on Wednesday morning just as I was about to set off. I can be grateful that I was not half way there when I got the call. Since then, I have been in meeting, documentation and philosophical hell. My problem lies within the fact that I cannot be half-pregnant. I am either fully engaged or I am completely disinterested. At the moment I am full steam, which probably makes some people uncomfortable. C'est la vie.

Anyway, that is ennui to you guys.

What else? Well, for once the weather is worth praising. I continue to love the heat. Nothing pleases me more than to look down at my forearms and see a dull matt sweat on them. That means it is optimal Kenny temperature. We got up to to 27 celcius today -- I guess that is about mid to high eighties. It was fantastic. When you have to shower twice a day, you know you are in a good zone.

I'm not in a position to speak about the news since I fully intend ignoring it until Tuesday. Everywhere you turn, tennis is the subject. Once Sunday's final is out of the way, maybe I will start listening to current affairs again.

I did have a chat on Facebook with a lass I know from way back in my early working life, who I was in love with for many a year. She has since moved off to Asia and has settled with husband and kids. We were discussing teaching. I am not a fan of the English system. I pretended to go through the motions and came out with an adequate education, not a brilliant one. It served its purpose to get me into a job, whence the real learning started. My friend's view, having been in Asia for over 10 years, is that the English system lacks a world view. At first I was skeptical. Then I realized that my baseline was US education and media. The US is very introvert in its teachings and press coverage. I complained about that while I was there. But as I spoke to my friend, I realized that I am but one level up from the US system. I was taught about about different religions (in Kenny world > /dev/null) and a couple of wars but never to appreciate other cultures. Thankfully, I was never brought up to scream "Go UK" apart from when there was a cricket or football match in progress.

For all my lambasting of Europe, I do understand it, and I do like it. The politics of it drive me to distraction, but I appreciate their values. My biggest eye-opener was when I moved to the US and started doing business with Asia. US companies have no idea how to alter their mindsets to deal with Asian values, to the point of being rude. The same is true when they deal with Europe but to a lesser degree. Nothing hones your sensibilities like having walked a mile in another culture. Maybe you cannot teach that but I'm sure you could lay a foundation.

L's point is to be seriously noted. While we criticize the Muslim world and the Asians for their cultural differences, we are no better. And that is a shame, because they have a lot to teach us.

Don't worry, I will not be wetting the bed soon, but a little mutual understanding never hurt anyone. And if you can build that into kids, it cannot be anything other than good.

Reyt, I'm tired and am going to watch an hour or so's TV before I hit the sack in preparation for another day of fretting. Forgive me if this one is a bit lame -- I am nodding off as I type. There are probably typos too so mea culpa.