Fair enough it’s only 1,000 words. But the synopsis of my dissertation is proving a right bugger to write. I think the clue is in the word “synopsis” - given it means “a *brief* description of the contents of something”. Or so my Cambridge Dictionary claims.

It’s taken me three hours to write 299 words and that includes my name and the date. At this rate I’ll be here for another seven hours working on the rest of it. Sod that, frankly.

I really can’t wait for the holiday.

A fire engine has just pulled up outside my house. Firemen got out, knocked on my front door, and asked if the house was on fire.

What was all that about?!

I hate, hate, hate children singing in television adverts - more so when it’s a group of them at it. It’s bad enough in proper songs, but I can avoid them easily by not listening to music. (Sod off Another Brick in the Wall.)

But in television adverts? That’s almost an invasion of privacy.

The only vaguely interesting thing about this year’s Big Brother has so far been the doors. Because the pattern on them sort of resembles Tetris blocks falling down a screen.

I really hope someone mental finds a golden ticket, gets put into the house and starts carving up housemates during the night. That would be new, interesting and exciting.

The critique for the sperm donation project could’ve gone better yesterday, but I’m fairly pleased with the outcome. My main aim was to get recognition for trying something ambitious in such little time. And I did.

“Tossing yourself off,” - as uttered by my female course leader three weeks ago - was topped, I feel, when my course tutor described “the come coming down the screen” on Sam S’s project.

Today has again been a lengthy one, ending with my presentation about work experience at English & Pockett over Easter. It went down very well with laughs aplenty. And according to my course leader, they have since been in touch saying how impressed they were with me. Smug mode.

The last week has been very stressful in the life of your humble narrator. From wanting to constantly punch a certain person in the face to more important, personal matters - not to mention encouraging men to donate sperm between whiles - these have been emotional times.

But fear not, for there are only seven more weeks of this term left then it’s time for partying hard. Well, not quite "partying hard" by definition. But I fully intend to enjoy myself over the summer holiday. Apart from the whole dissertation-writing bit.

Anyhow, I’d best be off now as I’ve a presentation to write, a Tetris block to dock and a bed to collapse on.

Goodnight.

Oh, and I bought a pre-made bow tie in the end. Probably one of the best two Great British Pounds I’ve ever spent. Probably.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more annoyed than I am now. And it pains me to say that it’s all over a sodding bow tie - because I’ve spent the last four hours battling with the bastard and still can’t tie it properly.

Someone else has also annoyed me greatly today. And I want to punch them in the face. Hint: The deep-level line of the London Underground that is represented by the colour black on the Tube map.

Excellent.

Unlike just about every other food product these days, I had suspicions that the official Custard Cream biscuits were actually getting bigger. And after a little bit of investigation today (aided by my trusty penis-measuring device), I can reveal that they have, in fact, gone up a whopping 2mm.

Value!

It’s The Bill *and* a jigsaw puzzle rolled into one. What more could you ask for?!