:: Hitting The Odd Bum Note ::

OK, so I'm having a bit of a BJ day. Bridget Jones that is, before you ask.
Woke up spluttering on the sofa at 6.30 to be greeted by smug-chops Natasha Kaplinski on BBC Breakfast. What the fuck has happened to that programme? At least it used to be vaguely reassuring and business-like in a Radio 4 Today Programme type way. Now they seem to have tried to sex up the format and go all informal. At least they haven't stooped as low as Channel 4's ever-execrable RI:SE with its trio of hilarious presenters: Iain "the least funny one off of the 11 o'clock show" Lee, Kate "er, I'm not thick, but" Lawler and Zora "my hypno-cleavage helps you concentrate on the news" Suleman.
So, unable to cope with this onslaught I toddled upstairs... and woke up an hour and a half later with barely minutes to spare to perform my ablutions. Mindful of the forecast downpours, I pulled on a slightly ancient and rather tight T-shirt and a hoodie over the top. Bowling along in the bus to the station, I realised the two-layer clothing strategy might not be the best. I sweated as I listened to the radio and due to the fortuitous lateness of the connecting train, got in earlier than expected. Bumped into colleague Dorset Diver walking from the tube to the office. She complimented me on my tan (courtesy of the Suffolk sunshine), and I retorted that it always looks more impressive in the drabness of an overcast day. The office appeared to lag a day behind on the climate front, and the oppressive humidity necessitated the removal of my hoodie... to reveal the slightly ancient and rather tight T-shirt. Hmmmph. Doing my best not look fazed, I sauntered to the water-cooler to grab a cup of refreshment. The subtle combination of aforementioned shirt and hip-slung jeans conspired to show off my builder's cleavage to most of the office as I leant over to fill my cup. Next thing I expected was Hugh Grant and Colin Firth to leap out of the stationery cupboard...

Still snowed under by Pet Foods (mixed metaphor? I'm not sure), I've found little comfort in the interweb today. The Popbitchers have been cooing about their little get-together last night, meaning the board is full of self-congratulation and bitching and devoid of witty and amusing sleb stings. Oh sorry! No change there then. The main consequence of this appears to be today's non-appearance of the (actually good) PB mailout. I've had to make do with silly pictures from the V Graham Norton site.

Is it just me, or is that show becoming a cross between a naughty Noel's House Party (an anagram of "up the loony arses") and That's Life?