Blogdom is as boredom does

Ah, salvation in broadband! It's only taken 6 weeks and a dozen phonecalls to the two parties involved but finally, my internet connection resembles something vaguely useful. It also means that I can finally make use of the 140GB hard drive on this computer and systematically fill it with all the crap that my pittance of a 4GB laptop won't allow. I swear, that computer is on it's last legs - it makes horrible wheezy sounds when I overburden it with the request to open more than one programme at a time and frankly, I'm amazed it's made it 4 years without any serious ailments.

As always, I should be doing work but I'm yet to do any today and since it's almost 10pm, I doubt I'll really get anything done. Still, there's always tomorrow, right?

This isn't going to be a very long blog, nor will it be particularly interesting either I expect, since I've barely left the house since arriving here on Tuesday, I'm ashamed to admit that it will all be tv.

First off, just how good were The Games this year? Okay, so maybe seeing C-list celebrities sweating it out for some medals that the props department knocked up really isn't your thing. It wasn't even really mine either, but somehow I got drawn into it this year.

And the reason? I never thought I would say this, believe me, but Adam Rickitt. I'll give you all a minute to stop laughing on the floor and re-compose yourselves. Yes, he who once writhed naked in a perspex box has finally won over my affections. Drafted in to replace Goldie after he broke his leg, wee little Adam stepped up to fill some mighty big shoes with just two weeks to go. Despite his lack of training, there he was night after night, coming fourth or fifth in pretty much everything but seeing him soldiering on with two black eyes from the diving and keeping his chin up really stirred something in me (not like that, you filthy people).

In comparison to someone like Amanda Lamb (what does she do anyway?) who cried when she didn't win, or Javine who was smug and ungracious everytime she kicked someone's ass at something, Adam really stood out, soldiering on.

I like good sports, even if they have made some dodgy career choices in the past. So, kudos Mr Rickitt.

My next kudos go out to Simon Amstell. Last night, with a lack of good television, I tuned into the repeat of Never Mind the Buzzcocks, guest presented by Mr Amstell. I have two words to describe it: FUCKING and BRILLIANT. I don't think I've laughed so hard since I went to see Mike Wilmott last summer, particularly all the Kenzie baiting, although he held his own very well.

Told you it'd be boring.