To your right is a picture of me taken a few years ago when I had orange Gola trainers and a skinny jumper with red stripes down the arms (the collar is in fact quite accurate). Oh, and a massive left hand, which is much better now, thanks for asking.

On a completely unrelated note, enjoy the the most recent extract from Charlie Brooker's Ignopedia.

Continuing our uniquely unreliable interactive knowledge resource

Celebrity

A celebrity is a fellow human being who is better than you because lots of people know who they are. Everyone loves celebrities. Even people who claim to despise celebrities would, if they were honest, prefer to share a drizzly afternoon picnic with Kate Thornton than spend one more second in your revolting non-celebrity company.

If George Clooney called a globally televised press conference, then plucked out two of his eyelashes and announced he would donate them free of charge to the first viewer to turn round and murder their entire family, thousands would perish. Read that again. It is a fact.

Celebrities themselves are rarely evil. Several have talent worth celebrating. Curiously, this is rarely discussed in media coverage, which instead concentrates on how fat their thighs are in order to make regular people, driven to the brink of despair by their adulation of celebrities, feel momentarily better about themselves, and sufficiently robust to stave off suicide long enough to digest further celebrity coverage.

Any member of the public who voluntarily pays to read magazines stuffed with candid photographs of celebrities walking down the street clutching shopping bags is suffering from an acute form of mental illness that hasn't been diagnosed yet, but surely will if there is an atom of hope left in the world, because a civilian flipping through Heat in their lunch break is the human equivalent of a cow being stunned by a captive bolt pistol prior to slaughter - except the cow, at least, dies for a purpose.

More of this here.