AUGUST 25

SPOTTED in the laundry room:

AUGUST 24: "for christ's sake, HE'S NOT TALKING ABOUT BLOODY CARS AGAIN IS HE?"

ANOTHER weekend, another trip to Irwindale...

Some pics from the first race:

I'm not too sure what these cars are. Ev nicknamed them boo-boo cars. Whatever they are, they don't half shift.

As you can see, No27 has just lost it...

...leading to a near pile-up.

Then we're on to my fave of the night - the Pinto racing:

Then we're back to the regular NASCAR cars:

And to end the night there was a crazy-eight race, where the cars race around an 8-shaped track. For obvious reasons this is the most popular race of the night. Trouble is, I couldn't get the bloody camera to focus on the cars, something I'm hoping to remedy by the time we go to the RV racing next month.

AND, on a topic that has absolutely bugger all to do with cars (honest), tonight we finally got to see The Dark Knight at the cinema. What a fantastic, fantastic film. Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker craps all over Jack Nicholson's, whose own performance in Tim Burton's Batman was just to act slightly more nutty than his usual tired shtick. Even Ev, whose movie tastes usually run to the kind of films starring Hugh Grant, thoroughly enjoyed it.

One thing it did teach us is to arrive at the cinema 20 minutes after the movie's posted starting time. The Dark Knight was supposed to start at 6.10pm so we go there at 6pm only for the film to start promptly at 6.30pm. We had to endure 20 minutes of shitty commercials and trailers for movies that only a Hollywood focus group could find entertaining. On top of that, department store JC Penney has co-opted Don't You Forget About Me for its commercials. But not the original, oh no - that classic just isn't XTREME!! enough for today's brain-dead teens. Instead there was some god-awful cover version. Thanks, PR people - that's another fond teenage memory shat all over. Bastards.

AUGUST 22

THIS is a York Peppermint Patty. These things are like mint-flavoured legal crack.

Here it is sans wrapper. Look upon this evil temptress of dark chocolate and minty filling and despair.

Here's the creamy peppermint fondant stuff. Must... resist... think of waistline... no... no...

Shit, failed again.

LOOK, I don't want to harp on about this, but... TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILES OFF HALF A TANK! SUCK IT, SUV DRIVERS!

AUGUST 19

ONE of the best things about my Mini is getting nearly 400 miles to a tank. Even though it's done nearly 97,000 miles in four years and I currently drive 400 miles a week at an average speed of 80mph the fuel economy is still pushing about 38mpg. If it wasn't for the fact the Cooper takes premium petrol it would be even cheaper to run. As it is it costs about $40 a week, or twenty quid to the Brits reading this.

With all the panic over here about the rising cost of petrol (it's hit nearly $4.50 a gallon for the high-octane stuff the Mini takes) there have been loads of tips on the telly and in newspapers about how to conserve fuel. We're urged to check our tyre pressure, drive at 65mph, maintain the car properly and even wash it to improve its aerodynamics. Here are 10 of the most common tips and what I think of them.

Follow the recommended maintenance

The last time the oil was changed? I can't remember. The last service? About 28,000 miles ago. Mileage? Nearly forty to the gallon.

Keep your tyres properly inflated

I think I had the tyre pressure checked about four months ago. No, I'm lying, it was five.

Take a load off

To be fair I can't follow this one as Minis carry bugger all luggage. Besides, I don't think emptying the glove compartment of the manual, an old lighter, a torch, my insurance and registration documents and half a tube of Polo mints is going to make a lot of difference.

Don't drive aggressively

Er... I'm sorry, I don't understand that.

Use the highest gear possible

The very fact that someone thought this "tip" should be included proves my theory that Californian driver licenses come free in cornflake packets.

Use cruise control — selectively

Cruise control - like automatic gearboxes - is for drivers who don't actually want to drive. It might save your lazy arse some effort having to hold the pedal in position but it'll wreck your fuel economy on hilly roads.

Think clean

My Mini is so dirty I walked past it the other day because the sunlight reflecting off the coat of grime made it look silver, not black. The front end has crap on it that's not so much bonded with the paint as married, settled down and raised kids with it. I can't drive it at sunset because the dirt on the windows means I can't see out. But I'm still getting almost 400 miles to a tank.

Avoid excessive idling

This is where things start to get ridiculous. Given the fact that Southern California's roads are jammed to the hilt and you spend probably 20% of any journey over 10 miles stuck in traffic, the idea that everyone is going to turn their engines off, wait, turn them back on, move three feet and then turn them off again is idiotic. Besides, thanks to there being no equivalent of the MoT test the roads are full of shitheap cars that are held together by the license plate frame and chewing gum and which are lucky to start once a day, let alone 30 times a trip.

Think before you vent(ilate)

I haven't noticed any difference in driving with the windows closed or open, but having the a/c on does knacker the Mini's fuel efficiency which is why I only use it when the temperature goes over 90 degrees, and why Ev insists on taking her Corolla whenever we go out on the weekend.

Combine your errands

Once again the bloody obvious is heralded as a revelation from the heavens.

For the real fanatics there's hypermiling, a fairly new trend in which people go to incredible lengths to conserve fuel, even so far as to switching the engine off and coasting into parking spaces or pushing the car in and out of the garage. Some of the tips make sense and others are just bloody ridiculous but there are people who swear by them.

Of course the one tip you won't find on most of these websites or TV/newspaper articles is the one that's so blindingly obvious it doesn't need to be stated but still seems to be taboo. It has nothing to do with emptying the boot, removing the roof rack or switching off the air conditioning. It doesn't involve getting your car washed or having its spark plugs changed. Guessed what it is yet?

AUGUST 17

ON SATURDAY evening we headed to the Irwindale Speedway (or the Toyota Speedway Irwindale as it's now known) to watch the car racing. After receiving our free tickets we headed onto the track to check out the cars. All the drivers were autographing programmes, posters and T-shirts and I now wish I'd got some to put on eBay. Although my favourite kinds of car racing involve doing more than just turning left it's a good night out.

Here's a quick Emric break for the girlies...

...and we're back to our scheduled programme. Once the meet-n-greet bit was over we headed up to the stands to watch the races. I'd managed to get smuggle my 300mm lens into the place by hiding it in Ev's handbag and, armed with some tips from Blunty on how to shoot racing cars, I snapped away. First up was the truck race:

As you may have noticed, I like the crashes. Next up was a 40-lap NASCAR race and as my battery looked to be on the verge of death I only took a couple of pics of this one.

The main event was a 200-lap NASCAR race. I managed to get some shots of this before the camera kicked the bucket. To be honest, apart from car 34 crashing it was pretty boring - car 22 led the whole way while every one else played catch-up.

Oh, and Blunty - this still isn't the update I emailed you about.

AUGUST 16

DISCOVERED this evening in my new Gmail account:

Dear Friend,

I am pleased to get across to you for a very urgent and profitable business proposal, I Got your e-mail address in my office yellow page after I decided to contact you and ask for your assistance in this urgent matter, requiring trust and confidentiality,

I am Mr.Faeqah Nejad, the Branch manager, National Bank of Dubai Media City Branch (UNITED ARAB EMIRATES), married with four children. I am writing this letter to ask for your support and co-operation to carry out this business opportunity in my department,

On June 6, 1999, an America Oil consultant/contractor with Petroleum Corporation, Mr. David Ameeraly, made a numbered time (fixed) deposit for twelve calendar months, Valued at US$16,500,000.00(sixteen Million Five Hundred Thousand Dollars )in my branch upon maturity. I sent a routine notification to his forwarding address but got no reply. After a month, we sent a reminder and finally we discovered from his contract employers, the Petroleum Corporation that Mr. David Ameeraly, died in the plane crash On October 31, 1999, (an Egyptian Boeing 767 Flight 990) with other passengers on board as you can confirm it yourself via the website below

[removed]

[removed]

Most astonishing of my discovery was that, all records bear no next of kin, meaning no member of Mr. David Ameeraly family knows about the deposit therefore ,no member of his family will ever come forward to claim the money, In order for the bank not to transfer the said sum of sixteen Million, Five Hundred Thousand Dollars ($16,500,000.00) as unclaimed funds to the emirates treasury account, the above stated funds most be claimed immediately by somebody standing in as late Mr. David Ameeraly, Next of Kin, because According to (UNITED ARAB EMIRATES LAW), at the expiration of (Nine) years; the money will revert to the ownership of the (UNITED ARAB EMIRATES) Government if nobody applies to claim the fund,

This revelation is only known to me because I was his personal account officer before I was posted to become the branch manager , now I seek your collaboration to act as next of kin to late Mr. .David Ameeraly to claim the funds and move them into useful investments, we shall split the cash between our self upon the confirmation of the money into your account, I am ready to offer you 35% of the total fund and 60% for me while 5% will be set aside for any expenses might occur during the transaction,

Please note that by the virtue of my position in the bank , I have worked out the perfect modality as well as I shall provide the relevant information's and documents for the successful claim and transfer of the funds in the account that will be provided by you, I can not stand in the forefront of this transaction because I work with the bank ,that is why I have come to you, for assistance be rest assured that this project involve no risk to you, upon the receipt of your acceptance mail ,I will like you to provide me with the following details, bellow to my private email :

1) Your direct mobile/fax number.

(2) Your name and country resident address.

(3) Your private E-mail box.

Then I shall furnish you with due process of concluding this transaction

Without any delay.

Regards

Mr. Nejad

Sweet zombie Jesus! Are the 419 scams still around? I'm debating replying to Mr Nejad and winding him up. But as it's gone 1am I'm off to bed.

THE "IT'S 3.29AM AND I CAN'T SLEEP" UPDATE

SO I'M supposed to be getting up early to go to the Long Beach Aquarium and instead of getting a nice restful kip I'm wide awake. It's a classic case of my brain going, "Hey! It's really late at night, he needs to be up in a few hours so I'm going to go APESHIT!" Know what it went apeshit about? Bookmarks.

Yes, bloody bookmarks. For some reason in my sleepless state I became obsessed with the different kinds of bookmarks I've used over the years. Train tickets. Fag packets. Pages that have fallen out of other books. Bits of tissue paper. Pieces of string. Chewing gum wrappers. Rugby match tickets. Labels off beer bottles. Rizlas. Torn strips of newspaper. Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Note paper. Envelopes. Tube tickets. Business cards. Pens. Socks. Post-Its. Concert tickets. Fliers. Photographs. Pencils. Squares of toilet paper. Cigar bands. A flattened Marlboro I found under the seat of my Cavalier. Cashpoint cards. Credit cards. Loyalty cards. CDs. Receipts. Cinema tickets. Rulers. Stamps. AA batteries. Bills. Junk mail. Magazine covers. The flap off a cereal packet. Matches. Matchbooks. Old laces. A length of wool. The wing off an Airfix Spitfire. Bits of wire. An empty seed packet. The foil out of a pack of Regals. Knives. Theatre tickets. Beer mats. Rags. Ties. Those little bits of plastic that come with loaves of bread. Cassette inlay cards.

I have occasionally been known to use an actual, proper bookmark. When I was a kid it was practically mandatory to get one as a souvenir of a school trip. I used to own lots of those bookmarks, the leather ones that have a coloured side with the name of the place embossed in gold on it - BRISTOL ZOO or THE TOWER OF LONDON or CASTELL COCH - and a fringed end. Christ knows why I bought so many as I'd invariably end up using a bit of paper or a toothbrush by the end of the week.

One that's stuck out in my memory is my Superman bookmark. It's not remembered because Superman was on it (I'm much more of a Batman fan) but for what a certain Flynn, armed only with a fineliner pen, did to it over the space of a study period. Superman ended up with pigtails, fishnet stockings and suspenders, stubble, freckles, several missing teeth, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a fag in the other, stained underpants and a black eye. Flynn then embellished the rear of the bookmark with the words "I AM ROTUND" and handed it back.

So there you are. If you've stuck it out this long you're a braver person than I. If you look below, the actual update I did earlier is shorter and wittier than this one. Oh, and Blunty, if you're reading this it isn't the update I mentioned in my email. Bugger this, I'm off to bed.

AUGUST 15

THERE I was, sitting at lights on Shoreline Drive, when my bleary-eyed gaze settled on the minivan in front of me. There's a sticker across the back that reads "I ♥ MY WIFE".

Hang on, I thought. Surely that goes without saying? Let's face it, it would be like me having a sticker on the back of the Mini that says "I ♥ MINIS". Or wearing a T-shirt with "I DON'T MOLEST KIDS" across the front. Or possibly putting a neon sign outside the flat that says "WE AREN'T SERIAL KILLERS". It certainly takes the delicate are of stating the bleedin' obvious to new levels.

AUGUST 13

THERE are a few things that cheer me up these days - a cloudy sky, small children being hurt on America's Funniest Home Videos, the knowledge that Margaret Thatcher will die during my lifetime - but none greater than spotting a fellow countryman while on the way to work. It also made me realise that for some reason I don't have a Welsh flag on the back of the Mini, which is something I'll have to remedy soon. Then again it's not like you could actually see it under the dust and dirt currently covering the paint.

As to why we have a dragon on our flag and not the more usual collection of stripes, there are two possible answers. The boring one is that it was nicked from the Romans, whose Draco Cavalry used a dragon's head on its standards and banners. This is obviously a load of historical cobblers. The far more interesting answer (and the one I tell everyone) is that back in the dawn of time a Welsh king asked Myrddin (Merlin) to see into the future and tell him the outcome of a battle. Merlin conjured up two dragons, one white and one red, which commenced to fight. The red dragon was victorious and the king took it as his personal emblem and then very probably went on to be defeated by Fiji in the quarter-finals*. According to legend the red dragon (Y Ddraig Goch in Welsh) still sleeps under the hill fort at Dinas Emrys. The white and green come from Henry VII's livery, and until I wrote this update I never realised Henry VII shares my birthday, or that his son - famous womaniser and fat git Henry VIII - died on my birthday. Either way it's been our flag since about 830AD and even though some people are campaigning to incorporate it into the Union Jack, they can piss off.

*This is a rugby joke.

SO I'D never seen the novelization of Dark Star before and now I've seen it twice in a week. Weird. I think I prefer the cover art (something I'm a fussy bastard about) on my copy. And the 2001 connection I can see, but The Poseidon Adventure? Dark Star is not set at sea, there's no tidal wave and the ship doesn't capsize. The Poseidon Adventure is not set on a spacecraft, there's no thermostellar bombs and the ship doesn't explode. Apart from that they're identical.

AUGUST 10

I FOUND this 1978 ad for the Star Wars novel in the back of the novelization of Dark Star. "This most spectacular space fantasy" sound like it's been written by a Victorian advertising executive and the whole thing is so understated and amateurish compared to current advertising trends that it's actually refreshing.

I have a feeling that Industrial Light and Magic didn't do the artwork. Princess Leia is holding her blaster like it's a three-week-old dead haddock and Luke appears to have the world's shortest lightsabre and thumbs on both sides of his left hand. Still, it's a million times better than Jar-Jar.

I don't think I ever owned the novelization of Star Wars so I can't say if it was "the year's paperback sensation" or whether I'd love it as much as Jack Kroll did. Apparently it was ghost-written by Alan Dean Foster but credited to George Lucas, an early example of Lucas benefiting from someone else's talent (at least until the prequels came along and we all saw what an unoriginal hack he really is). Foster is a prolific sci-fi writer who's done excellent novelizations of countless movies including Alien, The Thing, Outland and The Black Hole, as well as his own sci-fi books.

Dark Star, however, just isn't very good. I love the film and at some point in the future I want to give it the same treatment I gave The Black Hole. Made for $60,000 in 1974, it's about four guys who fly around the galaxy in the scoutship Dark Star destroying unstable planets with thermostellar bombs. Far from being honoured and excited to be on the mission, after 20 years in space the crew are bored out of their minds. Unfortunately the novel bored me out of my mind. It's just dull. None of the humour or warmth of the film makes it over the printed page and you don't really give a monkey's about the crew. It's a shame but luckily The Thing - which I'm reading next - more than makes up for it.

AUGUST 4

I'VE seen this car around Glendale several times in the past and on Sunday I finally managed to get some photos of it with the moby.

On close inspection the pattern looks like it's hand-painted. The guy who did it has his phone number and email address painted across the back of the car.

Groovy.