He wants to be a rock star. He wants to be an actor. He wants to be the funny man, the straight man and the inconsequential extra at the back that no one pays any attention to. He wants to be a philosopher; a religious leader; a politician; a diplomat. He wants to make you laugh. He wants to make you think. He lets you look into his head at his world and he wants to have a look into your head at yours. He does impressions, mimes and stand up that would make you fall down laughing. He has fake breasts that he wears over his ears when he flies on planes, and a penchant for high heels and make-up. He wants to change the world, and, if the world had any sense, it�d let him do just that. He�s been in films, on TV, in theatres, arenas and clubs. He�s sometimes so funny, he even makes himself laugh. He is a master of the art of digression, and he fills me with hope that talent still exists and is rewarded in the world. And another thing; apart from the one time he mentioned spreading it thickly on communion wafers to make the whole process meaningful, he hardly mentioned jam at all.
Never put a sock in a toaster� but, if you ever get the chance, see Eddie Izzard live.
Read MoreTuesday, December 23, 2003 at 03:26 PM

There are things to write
There are things to write - and it's been a while. About our christmas party. About champagne in rosie's cleavage. About the word "paralytic". About software and laptops. About endings and beginnings. All this is translated into "ah ah ah" noisings and no wordage.
It's a busy time of year. This year, it's a nice time of year. The weather is nice. The presents are wrapped. The plans are made.
The New Year will truly be one - and 2004 is looking mighty good - she says skipping over the Christmas bit. No, no. I have things to say, but not necessarily today.
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