Here come de judge. He got his hammer an his NOOOOSE.

I appear to be a Wikipedia arbitrator as of January 1st. MUWAHAHAHAHA.

Apparently, we're not allowed to actually hang fuckheads. How very annoying.

Hold my heart daddy-o, it just won't go-o-o-o.

I just survived Crassmas top-up shopping at Liverpool Street Station. I failed to find Lush, in the search for a smelly thing for arkady's daughter, but that's probably just as well, as I overheard two women talking about how one had waited in the queue there for half an hour and given up.

I did pass Claire's and see the w0rngest gift of the season: chrome play handcuffs. With little pink hearts stencilled onto them. £2.50. And remember, these are aimed at the young teenage girl market. No, I did not get them.

Both feet in the bad-boot.

We were looking to a quiet night in of wrapping presents and writing cards, then arkady messaged about a dead laptop giving the joyous UNMOUNTABLE_BOOT_VOLUME blue screen. A Hewlett-Packard XPsp1 disk was sufficient to bring up a recovery console; a couple of runs through chkdsk /r later and it's alive and well.

The article on Xenu has become truly excellent in the past week. Chris Owen has escalated the article to heights of Scientology lunacy that made even me, with nine years' experience, goggle and choke. There's something heartwarming about an encyclopedia article containing the sentences "A steady flow of flying saucers is still dropping off more entheta beings" and "In Los Angeles, a nightwatch was ordered to watch for returning spaceships." With references!