Dies Irae, the very amusing blog of JonnyB comment box regular Ivan The Terrible.
Struggling Author, who last night managed to gatecrash the premiere of 'Superman Returns' - with her parents.
Timboland, the new home of Tim, formerly of The Long Lost Lonely Lagomorph.
Alan recalls the day his life changed - "A blast of intense heat hit me, and as I looked along the balcony I could see the huge jets of flame billowing out of the top of the stairwell and high into the night sky. And my brain said to me, 'oh well, that’s that then', and shut down".
Mike has difficulty adjusting to provincial life following his return from London - "[I can't stop] spitting with contempt every time I pass one of our many, many Greggs sandwich shops ('When I was in London, everyone ate CRAYFISH AND ROCKET')".
Swiss Toni leaves his dignity and credibility at home and thoroughly enjoys himself at a Billy Joel gig - "It wasn't just the quality of the songs that made this a great night though; Billy Joel was the consummate entertainer throughout. He chatted to the crowd, he read out a marriage proposal, he spoke into someone's mobile phone for them, he cracked jokes - often at his own expense, he bounced up and down behind his piano and, when he wasn't behind his piano, he charged around the stage with more enthusiasm and energy than you might have expected for a short, tubby little guy pushing 60. He was great".
Kenny delivers his half-time report on the best albums of the first six months of the year.
Jonathan responds to sanctimonious pundits and journalists in offering an impassioned defence of Zinedine Zidane - "The match needed livening up just around then. I mean come on, nothing of note had happened for the preceding twenty minutes. As the spectre of penalties loomed, the French players were wandering around the pitch at walking pace, and if someone had placed a nice comfy sofa in the centre-circle the entire Italian midfield would have raced to curl up on it with a good book. This is not what you want from a World Cup final. You want passion. You want incident. You want the French captain to walk up to the nearest Italian and strike him clumsily in the chest with his head".
Del posts his first proper podcast, featuring everything from Frank Sinatra and The Carpenters to Fourtet, Lambchop, KLF and Beck.
Simon unearths another great band on MySpace, and again Los Campesinos! are from my current home city of Cardiff - "In the space of first track 'You! Me! Dancing!' we noted down the names of Architecture In Helsinki, My Latest Novel, Ooberman, Thunderbirds Are Now!, Heavenly, Broken Social Scene, Orange Juice, Khaya and Les Incompetents".
Betty responds to a reader's recent post featuring pictures of shirtless Italian footballers with a gallery of snooker players - "Not all of us are taken with Italian footballers, with their toffee coloured wavy hair, dreamy green eyes, olive complexions and perfect muscle definition. Indeed, we set our sights lower and can appreciate a man who has something of the ghoul about him (as so many snooker players do) or who have infinite love handles, chronic acne or the sort of waxy colouring only achieved by men who have never encountered daylight, having spent every day since the age of seven in a snooker hall drinking and smoking".