Poor old Kimi. There are all sorts of recriminations after his crash at Nurburgring when his front suspension broke after 15 laps of battering when running on a tyre, as James Alleninthepits described it, the shape of a 50 pence piece. He flat-spotted it trying to lap that twonk Villeneuve. I suppose strictly speaking to make it like a 50p piece he’d have had to flat-spot it 7 times, but I’m sure it wasn’t far off.

The new regulations this season where one set of tyres have to last each car for qualifying plus the whole race, along with the engine babying brought about by rules requiring them to last two race weekends just mean we’re treated to a two-hour endurance race. Don’t get me wrong, I like endurance racing; Le Mans is still one of the best tests of drivers and teams, but F1 to me should be about going as fast as you can for the two hours. They were billed as bringing down the cost of participation so that it wouldn’t end up as a slugging match between global car makers with no privateers and to promote closer racing by reducing the single-racing-line nature of most circuits. They’ve failed, and I think the F.I.A. knows it. That’s why they have started this survey cobblers. Quite how they couch it in the rules, I don’t know, but to me the key must be in the aerodynamics. When the drivers say that their lap times start to suffer when they’re within half a second or more of the bloke in front, that’s the problem right there.

Bloody hell. Big Brother is on again. Seems only 5 minutes since I was finally freed of the misery last time round. The prospect of weeks trying to avoid E watching shrieking inadequates fills me with the kind of dread normally reserved for under-achieving Chinese fridge factory managers during their annual performance review.

Standing behind some students with their trolley in the “basket only” checkout queue this lunchtime, we all had a bit of a laugh. At least those below 40 or so had a laugh, the others didn’t get it; either that or they refused to get it on the grounds of good taste. I don’t know into which category the Sainsbury’s management fell.

What made the dirty-minded younger(ish) ones so amused? Maybe working at Sainsbury’s is more fun than I’d imagined! “Good morning, this is a staff announcement. Would the back door team please report to the stock room.”

Fantastic. Only seconds after winning the European Cup, Gerrard comes up with one of the classic footy phrases – up there with “over the moon” and “sick as a parrot”. How do you feel having come back from 3 – 0 down at half time to win? “It hasn’t sunk in yet.”

Good grief. I just finished watching the Sky coverage re-run because Sky Plus failed to record to the end of the ITV showing: twice. The first time it stopped mid-way through the second half of extra time, which was annoying enough, but when I set it to record the ITV re-run at 1.05, it stopped half way into the penalty shoot-out! Call me cynical, but it’s almost like Sky were punishing me for watching the ITV coverage instead of their own.

No better illustration of why I wanted to watch ITV instead is needed than the way Sky ended the programme. Stone me if they didn’t cough up the hairball that was Sean Connery doing a William Shatner style spoken version of The Beatles’ “In My Life”. Teeth-grindingly bad.

Updating my profile on StumbleUpon lead to this personality test. What the hey. It wasn’t conclusive on the first 3 of the 4 type pairs, and it’s all a load of old pony, but anyway:

Well, I am an engineer of sorts, and I got the same result doing the test twice (actually more definite the second time), so maybe there is something in it.

I tell you what, though, the copy-and-paste HTML they supply is bloody awful. It’s not even a table for position – it’s a table with one row and one column! Bunch of arse. I tell you what, their code is not written by an ISTP Engineer…

A great long weekend visit from the Parentals, with sunny weather just when we needed it and plenty of quality time (some snoozing on the sofa – marvellous). No blog over that time, of course, but never mind.

Tonight, though, I had the kind of rubbish game of football that I wish I could forget in a hurry. In front of goal, I couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with a banjo. Oh well, I shall do my pennance during the week in the gym.

It says here on the Old Engine Oil bottle “An unusual name for an unusual beer! Wickedly smooth chocolate dominates the flavour, which is nicely balanced by the bitterness of the hops, making Old Engine Oil a delicicious ‘After Dinner Beer’”

Chocolate? Chocolate? I’ve tasted more chocolatey dog treats (don’t ask).

It could be a phrase used to describe my poker skills, but no, it refers of course to the Greatest Game in the World.

What is that great game, you ask? Well, its influence is everywhere yet few are true cognoscenti. A web site providing access to an 1827 map of London has but one placename worthy of an exclamation point. Need I say more?

We couldn’t miss the chance to see Lisa Loeb, when she tours the UK so seldom. This was her only UK date this time around, and so tickets (plus hefty booking fee, grumble grumble – later found out the Bloomsbury also sells its tickets direct without the scam) were absolutely mandatory.

This is the first gig I’ve seen at the Bloomsbury and it’s a decent venue: a bit threadbare, but the usual friendly atmosphere of a college hall. After a swift noodle at Wagamama and a brisk walk, we got to our seats with minutes to spare. The stage was minimally adorned with just two mics, a bunch of pedals and a stool – no pretensions here.

On came Lisa and Dave Gibbs of Gigolo Aunts and away we went. Dave did a great job as an inconspicuous but very able backing artist – to the point where I thought to myself that I must dig out some more Gigolo Aunts stuff.

“Do You Sleep?” was a cracker, and it just kept getting better. The P.A. was impeccable and if anything there was more detail than on some of her records. Because it wasn’t too loud (God, I’m getting old) you could even hear her tapping her bebooted foot to emphasize the accents – and maybe to keep Dave in line.

I was hoping she wouldn’t do “Window Shopping” because that’s the one song of hers I really can’t stand. Really. To the extent that in the beginning it put me off the whole “The Way It Really Is” album. Of course, now I love it, I’m just in the habit of skipping track one. Just like when I listen to Husker Du I just skip all the Grant Hart songs. Well, she did sing it, and I didn’t like it, but a bit of contrast does no harm.

There was plenty of cute chit-chat between songs: Lisa went to Regents Park that lunchtime, had rather too much cheese, great baguette – crispy on the outside, doughy on the inside… ahem. Apparently they have some new ducks there that weren’t there before. Bless. “The Way It Really Is” was originally going to be called “Half and Half” but that looked stupid written above the picture with the deer.

It wouldn’t be fair to bring this whole review down by making a comment about how she looks: it’s all about the music! “Will You Wander?” was particularly delicate, “Stay” was, of course, magnificent, and “Butterfly” from “Catch the Moon” was simply wonderful: so frail and spare. Captivating. What is the main impression this evening has left on me?

Damn, she’s cute.

We went to London to see Lisa Loeb – of which more later – and at Kings Cross I needed some cash. The bloke in front of me in the queue took his card and wandered off, leaving his cash in the machine. Instead of pocketing it and starting whistling in a “who, me?” kind of way, I called him back and went about my way knowing that a) I am lovely and b) I could have been probably at least 50 quid to the good. Hey, wait a minute…