Not what this will be about

But, every now and then, I read the occasional blog.

Sometimes quite late. When I've not had much sleep. And I feel a bit ill-tempered.

One of the many pleasures of the internet is that, unlike television, those that you percieve to have offended you can actually recieve information on the subject. Calling Jeremy Clarkson a twat whilst watching TopGear is a very unsatisfying experience - he can't hear you, and you look like a mental.

Blogs however ...

Very late one evening, I am reading scaryduck. Often banal, but has quite often made snot come out of my nose with mirth (a very hairy nose, according to favourite daughter). The duck is in something of a slump - tedious anecdotes for days on end, topped-off with a hugely self-congratulatory post about the fact that he's managed to get something or other published in the Guardian, and isn't he great.

Good for him, I would normally think. But after four days of no sleep, I fire off a comment. I no longer have any record of it. But it was very rude. And insulting. And contained the phrase 'puffed-up little twat'. I can't find it now - he's deleted the entire post and all comments.

But he replied by email.

Tune in tomorrow for more.