I forgot to mention - when I was in town doing my Christmas shopping I purchased The Big Issue (please do the same - too many miserable f**kers walk past and won't cough up a couple of quid) and as I did the guy said to me - honest to god - "Great. Cheers mate. That's me last one - I can go home now".

Mate - you really need to sort out your sales pitch.

EDITED TO ADD: Thank you for your comments but no I didn't see Jimmy Carr doing this gag. This is not a gag. It actually happened.
He's the Big Issue seller with the long hair who has a dog who usually stands outside Waterstones in Birmingham just down from the Bull Ring.

Well all the adverts for shit on the telly and the subtle hints from idiots I live/work/socialise with as to what they want for Christmas makes me think it must be time for the annual horror that is "Christmas Shopping" or as I prefer to call it - buying crap for people because you feel obligated to based on a religious festival they don't even believe in.

So - I get wrapped up warm and drive into the city centre and queue for half an hour to travel the last quarter mile into the very centre. I then spend another half hour queueing to get into the multi-storey car park which is bursting with stupid people-carriers (everyone used to manage with a simple estate or even a saloon when they had kids back in the 80's) and us fools who weren't up at the crack of dawn and have got here at noon are waiting for each car to come out before another one is let in.

Eventually I park and get out and fight my way through the throngs of noisy, grubby, shellsuit-clad gobshites who are utterly incapable of noticing anything other than what it directly in front of them and therefore have to mash everyone else's shins with their bags of cheap plastic crap from Argos as they bumble off towards KFC for their bargain bucket lunch.

I finally make it to a trendy little "cafe" which serves all manner of different coffees with all manner of chocolate/toffee/milk variations.

And internet access.

After twenty minutes my coffee is finished and Amazon.co.uk, Play.com, Firebox.co.uk and somewhere else - I think it was Boots.com - have sorted all my Christmas shopping.

Like all those smug buggers in your workplace who always tell you their Christmas shopping is no problem as they do it online - I do too, but I do it properly because I'm hardcore. I go through all the hassle to get the presents even though I shop online.

A Christmas present is only any good if the person went through hell to get it for you.

Metallica return with a humdinger of an album recorded entirely in the key of H.

It is a new key they invented whilst in a particularly protracted group therapy session. James was busy not drinking in one corner whilst Lars yelled into a small Brabantia pedal bin about how misunderstood he was and Kirk looked on bemused as he couldn’t fathom why no-one had sussed he’s been playing the same rubbish solo for all these years.

Fortunately this album is as heavy as ever albeit we cannot hear an ounce of the rhythm being provided by the insanely talented [insert name of current bass player].

Whilst it’s not interesting in any way - it’s certainly worthy of note that all eleven songs on this masterpiece were written.

The cover art concept is brilliant - combining a picture of some sort with the name of the band (and the album title) - written in actual words - across the bottom bit of it, sort of in the middle.

Having said all that this album has a sort of menacing swagger and it leaves you unsure whether to adore it or hide in the shed and tell no tales. The riffs fly at you like those freaky monkey things in the Wizard Of Oz. Christ those things used to sh*t me up big time. What kind of weirdo puts that in a kids' film?

Anyway - where was I? Oh yes - riffs - it's got lots of those. Fast ones AND slow ones and some that change halfway through.

Did I leave the oven on?

Sorry - the album - yes - it's er....Metallica really. It is beige metal of the very shiniest order and the lyrics are about stuff and the drums are there too.

In short you should buy it because you are 38 and think you still rock, but actually you have two kids and a Mondeo estate and spend more time listening to Teletubbies and the Tweenies than any other music and so by comparison it still seems cutting edge. Goodnight.

Except it isn't a "night" any more is it? It's a f**king MONTH!!! Why do so many people have to let fireworks off every frigging night and what is the fascination? Surely the novelty wears off eventually. One night a year it's cool (maybe two - Divali is usually a good night) but every night for four weeks is just pathetic. Get a life.

There's a family across the road from us who have been standing in their garden for TWO HOURS watching rocket after rocket go up and go BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG continuously.

TWO hours???!!?!?

No pretty flashes - just deafening bangs. For TWO hours!!!

What's wrong with you? Are you swamp creatures? Are you all a bit "backwuds"? To be impressed by loud bangs repeatedly for two hours......Jesus - I could hit them repeatedly with a hammer around the head and it would have a similar effect.

Then we'd all be happy