Lump of 'Wood.

Ladies, you can all just relax. I thought I had lost my foot lump yesterday but after much searching I found it in the back pocket of my jeans that I'd thrown in the laundry hamper. Stop looking now, girls, because it's found. I have had 11 foot lumps in my life (I like to think of this one as Matt Smith) and lost 10 of them. This new one I am going to keep forever.

And why wouldn't I? People who have read my blog can't wait to tell me how disgusting they think my foot lump is and I can't wait to tell them that I have it in my pocket. The look on people's faces when they realise they are mere feet away from my foot lump is terrifyingly priceless. I met Dan Mersh and Paul Litchfield yesterday and Dan looked as if it was the end of days when I told him he was basically sitting next to it. Paul ruined everything by being really interested in looking at it and wanting to touch it. Cunt.

Anyway, if you see me and would like your picture taken next to my foot lump then please just ask. Unless you think I really should put it on eBay. Both are very tempting.

It's good that the foot lump is scaring people. Torchwood should be doing that this week and it isn't. Torchwood: Children of Earth is doing a Dead Set in as much as there are 5 episodes being shown every night this week finishing, I'm delighted to say, tonight. It is absolutely God awful. "The adult Doctor Who", the BBC cried when Torchwood first hit our screens. It isn't. It's a puerile mess of characters that constantly change character, sexless sex and high camp pretending to be drama. Basically, it's The Sarah Jane Adventures with the occasional "shit". But how could it be anything other than that when the leading man is John Barrowman. FUCK OFF just seems too kind and polite for him. He turns his hand to so many different things just to, I assume, prove without a shadow of a doubt that he can do none of them. He was good in The Empty Child and then Russell T. Davis forgot what the character of Captain Jack was and since then he's been shit. He sings, he dances, he gives me an ulcer. Already in this Torchwood nightly trawl Captain Jack has SHOCKED us by being MONOGAMOUS, a PARENT and a GRANDPARENT. These aren't layers, this is basically a writer who doesn't know his lead character. He should kill him but the cunt can't die. Anyway, tonight's episode concludes with Captain Jack tap dancing with the 456, asking the children of Earth questions to see if they're as smart as grown ups and saving the planet by singing Dancing On The Ceiling by Lionel Ritchie. Weeeeeeeee-Ooooooooooh.

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