There's something of a black cloud hanging over me today. Actually there's two, one sweeping in from Hertfordshire full of toxic petrol-based fumes, and one that's been brought on by my consistent failure to find a new job, a sane female companion and contact details for Eddie "the Eagle" Edwards.
On the plus side, I had a row woth Michael over the weekend, and that's not to say we went sculling in a small boat down the Serpentine, I mean we had an argument.
"It's ridiculous, how am I meant to get anyone to agree to meet me between Christmas Day and New Year. They'll be too busy trying to get refunds on unpleasant cardigans or watching The Sound of Music." I said, albeit with a rather moaney lilt in my voice.
"Shut up and get me some chips," he replied (we were in the Coral Bay Fish Shop on Cricklewood Lane). Anyway, to lop the end off a long story, I have been granted one final 2-week extension to my challenge, which will now end with all the finality of Mongolia's chances of winning the World Cup, on February 14th 2006 or Valentines Day 2006 or the day my postman may as well sit at home and put his feet up.
If that's what turns him on.
So yes, as I suggested, I have at last got round to sending out some more letters, as I still have 108 out of 500 to send, although not any more as the following 18 people will be getting more than just Christmas Greetings from their local curry house through their letterboxes over the next day or so:
Richard Branson, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Sir Ian McKellen, Greg Dyke, Boy George, Naomi Campbell, Richard O'Brien, Nigel Benn, Jimmy Greaves, Wayne Rooney, Colleen McLaughlin, Aled Jones, Andrew Marr, David Bailey, Bernie Taupin, Michael Barrymore and Sir Alex Ferguson.
There are at least one or two in this group who, to put it mildly, I'm not too hopeful about getting a reply from. I'm thinking about the ones who don't get out of bed for less than £300,000 (and might be seen on a catwalk). Sadly, all I have to spare at the moment is the 23p on the desk in my bedroom.