'we've been backed into a corner, in my eyes'*

Every morning on my way to work I pass a sign saying Strictly No Parking. With the return of the hysterically popular Strictly Come Dancing to our screens, I this week conceived of a very low-budget alternative in which z-list celebrities stand at the back of a shop warding off opportunistic parkers. There are people who would pay to watch Brian from Big Brother shouting at a man in a white van. It's social realism. That's what I'm telling BBC3 anyway.

At the same time, I do have a real job - for the time being. This week the new director who supervised the restructure announced her resignation. It's like watching Godzilla walk off into the sea after trampling a major city. Kind of moving, actually.

But no - it was not an act of wanton destruction. It was an act of wanton construction. The remaining posts are about to be filled, and then the gleaming new structure will finally be up and functioning. Only to be demolished by Mothra.

At the weekend Dave and I went to Ross and Christine's housewarming. The corridors in the block they live in have a definite air of The Shining about them, but on the plus side they have a balcony, commanding a majestic view of Somerfield's loading bay (and, to be fair, many other things). From it we witnessed a car draw up next to a bin, disgorging a couple who removed some cardboard boxes, then drove off. That's what we call a great night out in Brentwood. (Possibly another TV series here..?)

*Phrase used by a postman on a mountain in Wales, ringing in to Jeremy Vine about the postal strike.