:: Knit One, Purl One... ::

It's been a hell of a week: the BBC started interviewing candidates for the job of Chairman, Richard Clarke testified about the Bush administration's approach to terrorism before September 11th and Teflon Tony swanned over to Libya to begin preliminary business negociations for BAE and Shell. The chitter-chat with North Africa's top interior designer was probably just a sideshow at this global corporate fair.

Just as Gaddafi turned his benevolent face towards the west and declared Libya's intention to distance itself from WMDs, the Ukrainian Defence Minister announced the country had lost "several hundred" missiles. Although we're now going to be selling him the military hardware he requires, I'm sure there are still plenty of other players in the market for a few hand-me-down Soviet warheads - I was naturally disappointed to discover that the new top level web domains did not include .wmd. London's streets have also been rid of a potential death trap. Although a useful target for bombers, the Bendy Buses seem to have done a good enough job of endangering passengers on their own.

Humour hasn't entirely deserted me this week, despite my colleagues desperate attempts to damp down every spark of jollity. The Beeb ran a droll little competition to write a story in clichés and certain commentators questioned the wisdom of having such a self-confessed "Man of God" in the White House. Actually, that last piece is only funny in the blackest sense: the implications of this issue are deeply concerning at the very least. My juvenile side was also gratified to discover the name of a spooneristic hi-fi manufacturer.

Although I'm hardly Carmen Electra, it would be churlish to suggest that sexual matters never feature in my cyber-bubble. With a new exhibition featuring a 30s vibrator, it seemed clear that the media were not going to neglect their favourite topic at the expense of international politics. The debate raged on as to whether everyone's pet hooker-blogger was what she claimed to be after all. Even Cynthia Payne was called on to denounce the author as an over-literate fraud. Other people, it seems, get off on tin porn. I shan't be trying that one...

Onto matters culinary. A date has yet to be set for the tea party to taste those Italian sweetmeats. One thing I intend not to serve is deep-fried chocolate sandwiches. My sweet tooth has been kept contented with a brick-sized lump of halva that our Greek researcher brought back from her recent travels.

And if you thought I couldn't tell my Arts from my elbow... Adrian Searle's piece on the new Saatchi Gallery exhibition made me chuckle. I'll also regrettably be missing Ladybird at the Royal Court, due to my own abject dramatics. Vassily Sigarev (sorry - website in Russian only!) is the most exciting playwright to come out of Russia in living memory. Chekhov he certainly ain't...

Due to excessive procrastination and verbosity, I have once again exceeded my alotted time. I'm due to be meeting Hypatia at the V&A's Friday Late view... She's going to impale me on one of her knitting needles!