Tony Blair wants to unite the faiths. Go, Tone, go! You eminently slappable berk.

“If you got churches and mosques and those of the Jewish faith working together to provide the bed nets that are necessary to eliminate malaria, what a fantastic thing that would be,” he said.

“That would show faith in action, it would show the importance of cooperation between faiths, and it would show what faith can do for progress.”

It would indeed be fantastic. Mind you, faith isn’t actually a requirement in this scenario, is it? Not sure it really would be ‘faith in action’. Just, like, kindness, decency, that sort of thing. Not so much ‘look what faith can do’ as ‘look what people can do when they aren’t being arseholes’.

At midnight tonight - and barring freak accidents - I will have gone a whole four weeks without alcohol, a Herculean trial that I adopted partly to assist in a fitness campaign*, partly to optimise revision skillz for the impending exams and partly out of curiosity. I can confirm that the rumours are true - you feel better, sleep better, and don’t miss it as much as you’d expect. Although today did test my resolve somewhat - an examination containing multiple choice questions with no right answer and a fire alarm with 20 minutes remaining will do that to a man.

The last exam is on Monday, and then? Oh then, my green-labelled love, you and I will be reunited.

*10lb in 5 weeks, stats fans, other contributing factors being under house arrest and so out of the vicinity of anywhere serving curly fries; restarting my oft-restarted jogging regime; and - yes! - Wii Fit.

I bought the bundle of glory that is an iPod Touch a while back and, having no music I wanted but unable to resist the urge to blag something from the iTunes store due to New Toy Syndrome (a condition that also explains why I own this), I downloaded the audiobook version of Small Gods by Terry Pratchett. It had an unfortunate narcoleptic effect on me - nothing to do with the book itself, which is fantastic, but something more akin to a bedtime story. I’d press play and be depositing drool down my t-shirt within ten minutes, which made listening to it on the bus something of a gamble. It was also a bugger that, naturally, it would carry on playing after I’d dozed off and I’d wake up with no idea where I’d got to, and have to rewind randomly until I heard a bit I recognised. The next software update better include a snore-recognition capability or I’m having words (I’d settle for an saliva triggered auto-off).

Anyway, a combination of 8 hours sleep a night and placing Anna under strict instructions to prod me every 9 minutes and 30 seconds sorted it and I finished Small Gods, and decided I liked this reading-without-having-to-read malarky. So much so that I bought another Pratchett book, Reaper Man, and immediately hit a stumbling block that can be summed up like so - Sergeant Colon is not Irish. I don’t care if someone can produce a quote from Guards! Guards! that starts “Sergeant Colon, his strong brogue evoking the rolling hills of the Emerald Isle,” the man is not bloody Irish. Except that Nigel Planer, the audiobook reader (and, yes, Neil from the Young Ones), thinks he is, and voices him accordingly. He also gives the Bursar a speech impediment, maintains a doddery old voice for Windle Poons even after his undeadening and gives Mustrum Ridcully a soft, posh voice entirely unsuited to bellowing at things he doesn’t understand. It is, any right-thinking person will agree, a series of outrages that simply will not stand (Miss Flitworth is wrong, too, all reedy and shrill). EDIT: I should add that the voice acting for Small Gods is really good - Vorbis in particular is perfect, and giving Didactylos a Scottish accent works, somehow. Not sure about Om, mind you, especially when *SPOILER* he keeps the same grouchy old man voice even after everyone starts believing again.

It’s unavoidable, I suppose - the reader has to distinguish between speakers somehow, and avoid droning. And it’s hardly new, as anybody who’s ever watched a film adaptation and howled (f’r'instance) “Is that fucking pleb supposed to be Batman?!” can attest. It’s pretty much put me off buying any more Discworld novels though, I’m not sure I want to know what Carrot or Gaspode the Wonder Dog sound like. Anyway, silver linings and all that - it gives me more free time to write pointless blog posts.

In honour of the Government’s latest struggle with reality, allow me to relate to you my favourite ever conversation about legalising cannibis.

A certain person who shall remain nameless: So, you think it should be legalised?
Me: Yeah, I think so.
Acpwsrn: I’m against it, that stuff fucks you up. Just look at the state of Alkie Malc, he smokes cannabis.
Me: Alkie Malc?
Acpwsrn: Yeah, I’ve seen what that’s done to him, he’s messed up in the head.
Me: Alkie Malc?
Acpwsrm: Exactly.