SEPTEMBER 30: REPUBLICAN = MORON

SO IT turns out the Bush Administration refused to give JK Rowling an honour because they thought the Harry Potter books "encouraged witchcraft". And these stupid ignorant superstitious morons were in charge of America for eight years? Remember, kids: universal health care is bad, but believing in an invisible superhero who lives in the sky is good.

SEPTEMBER 30: I AM A SLAPHEAD WITH BRACES AND A DIMINISHING NUMBER OF TEETH

ANOTHER day, another tooth gone. This is my third in two weeks and even now I have to see the dental surgeon in November to get what's left of this one out. I'm thinking of renting a corner of the waiting room and just moving in.

SEPTEMBER 29: I AM A SLAPHEAD WITH BRACES

YESTERDAY was B-Day for me: braces day. I don't think I've had braces since about 1987 and even then they were removable, meaning I didn't wear them so much as take them out when I got to school and put them back in when I got home.

But I can't take these ones out as they're wired to my teeth. And they have to stay in for two years. And I have to get braces on my bottom teeth when I come back from the UK. Oh, and they cost $4,000. I could get a classic Mini for that.

So now I'm trying to get used to eating without actually biting anything. I've already had to eat a footlong sub with a knife and fork and last night I just swigged tomato soup for tea. As to how I'm supposed to clean my teeth when they're covered in metal is anyone's guess.

The one upside is that the braces come in different colours, so I got red ones. I'm just disappointed they couldn't do little dragons.

SEPTEMBER 28: I AM A SLAPHEAD

EV SHAVED my head last night to the usual No1 level. Then I for some reason thought, "Bugger it — I'm going to shave it all off." So it was on with the foam and out with the Mach 3.

Here's the final results. Note the scar on the left, the result of an unplanned interaction with the corner of a windowsill when I was seven. Ev very kindly counted all the nicks I'd inflicted on myself — there were 11 in all, mostly on the back of my head. I might give it another go tomorrow night.

SEPTEMBER 27: ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DINER

THIS morning our friend came over and we headed out to the Gaffey Street Diner in San Pedro for brekkies. We've been once before and we well impressed with the portions and the quality of the food. We heard about the place on Diners, Dives and Drive-Ins, the Food Channel show that's hosted by that blonde tool with the stupid beard.

The interior's pretty basic and there's usually a wait. Ours wasn't too bad, only about 15 minutes, then it was time to eat.

Last time I was here I had chorizo and eggs, but this time I plumped (every pun intended) for Polish sausage, eggs, home fries and rye toast. And lots of coffee.

Stephanie went for the omelette topped with beef stroganoff with home fries...

...And Ev chose the French toast with bacon and scrambled eggs. Much like Woody's Cafe in Sunset Beach, the Gaffey St. Diner is a no-frills place but the service is good and the food comes in huge portions and is excellent. The home fries — slices of potato fried with onion and peppers — are great, the Polish sausage is fantastic and the rye toast is done to perfection.

I've basically been living on toast, salsa, fruit and Gatorade G2 for the past couple of weeks so this meal was like manna from heaven to me. I pretty much shovelled it down my throat in no time. Along with Woody's I can heartily recommend the Gaffey Street Diner.

SEPTEMBER 26: HALLOWE'EN IS COMING UP

OR AS it seems to be called in America, "Dress Your Eight-Year-Old Daughter Like A Whore Day".

Of course Ev and I, being responsible adults, don't partake in such frivolities.

Well, at least I don't. Here's Ev doing her Heath Ledger impression (overdose sold separately).

Wait... I think I've found my costume!

SEPTEMBER 25: WHAT A PLONKER

OUR sister paper in Orange County, the Daily Pilot, has a blinder of a story on its website. In a nutshell: bloke decides his nob is too short; bloke ties a weight to nob in order to lengthen it; weight gets stuck; bloke goes to hospital; firemen have to cut weights off.

I mean, I just want to be a fly on the wall in the hospital reception room. What do you say to the receptionist? I imagine it would have gone something like this:

"I'd like to see a doctor."

"Certainly sir. What's the problem?"

"I've hung a weight from my cock and it's gone black and swollen".

For Christ's sake, if all it took to lengthen your one-eyed trouser snake was tying a weight to it we'd all be doing it. There wouldn't be a loose bit of metal or any string left on the planet. Except me, of course; I don't need to.

And the best bit? The guy apparently told medical staff that "This will make me the chief of my tribe". What a tit.

IT'S taken me ages to write the above bit because I've been glued to the Australian Rules Football final between St Kilda and Geelong. I used to watch Aussie Rules in the UK and was always puzzled by the "rules" part of its name. It doesn't really seem to have any. There's no offsides, no forward passes, no fouls, and I have no real idea of what's going on. But it's mesmerising in its intensity. Here's a video:

Dear American viewers — note the distinct lack of helmets, padding, aimless milling around and convicted criminals.

SEPTEMBER 25

TWO of the papers I used to work for in Wales are being shut down with the loss of four jobs. Personally I'm not surprised; having been there for the re-launch of the Neath Guardian and Port Talbot Guardian from free to paid-for weekly titles it was bloody obvious the move was made to make our then-managing editor look good. A shitty promotional campaign, staff drafted in against their will from other titles, a useless editor and tripling the work of the subs/design desks? Sounds like a winner.

My one memory of the first editions was me and then-design editor Kevin feverishly trying to finish the papers (the desk's Wednesday workload increased from one paper to three) probably two hours over deadline as the management sipped champagne and kissed each other's arses in the office. I can also remember being told that "extensive" market research revealed we'd be selling 15,000 copies within six months. I can only imagine the woman in charge of promotions — someone so thick that she had to ask a designer how many "v"s are in "rivalry", to which he answered "three" and she accepted it — was given a nice fat bonus for pulling those figures out of her arse. Fourteen months later we were selling about 7,500 copies.

Part of this failure is doubtless down to the good people of Neath and Port Talbot, who balked at having to pay 35p for a paper they used to get for free. There's a saying in Wales: the further west you go, the deeper the pockets are. And the miserable tightarses who inhabit the shitholes of Neath and Port Talbot proved that right. The other thing our beloved management overlooked was the reaction of the South Wales Evening Post, the main paper for that area and a rival to us. Far from rolling over and taking it in the arse as expected, they — gasp! — fought back, launching their own free paper a week before ours came out and going on a promotional blitz that obviously cost more than the three quid we'd allocated for ours.

And how did the Evening Post find out we were doing this? After all, our managing editor had sworn us all to secrecy and we'd all promised to keep it quiet. Trouble is, he engendered in us the kind of respect you'd give a dog turd. I imagine that the Evening Post news editor was quite surprised to get several emails later that afternoon, all describing in detail every aspect of the plan.

So it's not surprising to hear they're being closed for being loss-making titles. They didn't stand a chance from day one and, in the hands of the useless managers we had back then, things could only get worse.

SEPTEMBER 24: BOOK NO. 500

IT'S kind of appropriate that my 500th book should be the first Calvin and Hobbes compilation. I've loved the tales of the hyperactive six-year-old and his cynical tiger for about 15 years since reading Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat while staying at Blunty's place. C&H have also been a great help to me during my times of depression; I read them as a form of therapy, losing myself in their world and forgetting my own troubles.

Of course hitting 500 books means I'm gonna need a bigger bookcase. And bear in mind that 500 is one-sixth of the number I had in Britain. Looks like we're gonna need a bigger house...

SEPTEMBER 23: FREEBIE TIME

THIS delightful example of modern Chinese craftsmanship was delivered to our features editor today and immediately snaffled by me. It's a full-size fake heart sent just in time for Hallowe'en and cunningly packaged to look like an offering from the meat counter at Ralph's.

Here's Ev modelling the heart sans wrapping. As she's a huge fan of Hallowe'en and all the plastic stuff that goes with it I've given the heart to her. She's taking it to work tomorrow so if it ends up on your desk, Shelly, it's not my fault.

SEPTEMBER 22: EDDIE IZZARD, BITCHES!

OH YES! I saw the ad in today's Los Angeles Times, called Ev and she used her magic to get two tickets to his January 30 gig at the Nokia Centre in LA. We've seen him twice at the Coronet Theatre and I saw him on the Glorious tour in Cardiff and we can't wait to see him again. I just hope Stripped Too is better than Sexie which was, to be honest, crap.

SEPTEMBER 22: THE 2.21AM UPDATE

I JUST finished David Benioff's City of Thieves. What an excellent book — moving, funny, tragic and comic, it's set in Leningrad during the siege of 1941-44. Two Russians, a Red Army deserter and a 17-year-old, are arrested by the NKVD and thrown in prison. They spend the night talking and assume they're going to be shot in the morning. Instead the NKVD colonel gives them an insane task — find a dozen eggs for his daughter's wedding cake and he'll let them go; fail and they'll be executed. The pair go about their task with little hope and run into cannibals, partisans, Nazis and others on their mission. Lev, the narrator, tells the tale with exactly the right amount of pathos and his companion Kolya is an excellent character. If you get the chance, read it.

SEPTEMBER 20: ONLY IN WAL-MART…

…WOULD you find someone standing on the drinks coolers to clean the signage. Just classic.

SEPTEMBER 20: ALMOST… BUT NOT QUITE

LOOK at this little booboo. We saw him outside Petco when picking up another scratching block for the morons. He's about seven weeks old, has fantastic blue eyes and best of all is called Spitfire, which as we all know is the greatest aeroplane ever made.

But it was not to be — Ev put her foot down about having another cat in the apartment. I pointed out that we could easily "lose" Madoc on the streets/beach/ocean but for some reason she wasn't impressed with that idea. So another gorgeous kitten slips from my grasp.

Speaking of cats, my friend Jamie's cat Squee shows impeccable taste by reaching for a Dirk Gently book, whereas Madoc would run away from it and Emric would puke on it. (Iestyn is more of a Terry Pratchett fan.)

SEPTEMBER 19

A PANORAMA of one of the oil islands near our place. As usual, click for the big (500k) version.

SEPTEMBER 19: AT THE DENTIST

EV PERSUADED me to go to the dentist to get my teeth checked out. I dunno why, it's only been five years since my last visit and they were OK then. I tried to fob the appointment off by pointing out that I have British teeth. She asked what that had to do with anything. I observed that teeth like mine saw off Hitler, the Kaiser, the Spanish Armada, the French at Agincourt, Zulus at Rorke's Drift and Margaret Thatcher; conquered Everest; invented television, jet engines, penicillin, the Internet, shrapnel, umbrellas, fax machines and the periodic table; survived the Blitz, Dunkirk, rationing, Take That, Tony Blair and the Poll Tax Riots; gave Johnny Rotten his name; brought a quarter of the globe's population under the greatest empire the world has ever seen; created The Office, Blackadder, Spaced, Red Dwarf, Fawlty Towers, Porridge, Men Behaving Badly, Dr Who and Only Fools and Horses; produced The Beatles, Rolling Stones, The Cure, The Clash, Morrissey, Eddie Izzard, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Churchill, the Cerne Abbas Giant, Agatha Christie, Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett and steak & kidney pudding; and, as such, do not need dentists.

In response Ev gave me The Look, so I got in the car.

After getting my teeth X-rayed came the good news: I needed three extractions, several crowns, bridgework, a deep clean, and I was ordered to start flossing, whatever that is.

Four hours later and two teeth lighter I was released. I have to go back for three visits in the next 10 days, then a visit to a specialist, then braces (braces?? I'm thirty-bloody-seven) then more work. This, as I pointed out to Ev in Denny's while coffee dribbled out of my still-numb mouth, is why I don't go to dentists.

SEPTEMBER 18: TAKE ONE EV, ONE FRIDGE, AND ONE TUB OF RANCH DRESSING

LET'S face it, if you're going to get ranch dressing all over the kitchen floor you may as well do it in style.

For starters, make sure your leg is in the way.

Bear in mind that the carpet might like ranch, so spread it around!

And just in case the door gets jealous, make sure it gets a helping. Oh, and be sure to ask Mut (or your equivalent) to clean up the carpet.

SEPTEMBER 17: IT'S A BUG'S LIFE DEATH

WALKING back from doing the laundry on Sunday (yes, I do the laundry) I spotted an irridescent shape on the ground. It's a dead June bug shining in the sun. So what do I do? I pick it up and take photos of it. As always, click for the bigger pic.

SEPTEMBER 16: ANTIQUES CRAPSHOW IV

AFTER dropping the Mini off at the garage Saturday morning we headed off to the junk antique shops at the Orange Circle. We went partly so I could get some new old postcards (eh?) but also because we can't believe the load of shite on sale there and have to return every now and then to make sure our eyes weren't deceiving us and that yes, five-year-old editions of Life magazine really are classed as "antiques" in Southern California.

Looking for that elusive hideous green 50s glassware? Then look no further! The best bit is that each piece of this Cthulhu-coloured crap is individually priced, meaning Grannie can finally replace the ashtray she broke back in '73 without having to buy the whole set again.

At last — the perfect Christmas pressie for that uncle who lives in Montana and isn't invited to family gatherings.

You know, I've often thought that my bookcase is sorely lacking in tomes on a certain murdering bastard who got away with it thanks to the stupidity of a jury comprised of morons.

Holy shit! It's the Six Million Dollar Man's spaceship! I had one of these when I was a kid. In fact, here I am holding it:

Look at me — six years old and irresistible. Christ knows what happened in the 31 years from then to now. Although that hairstyle lasted well into my teens.

You know, someone who likes green glass, is interested in a certain murdering git, has an affection for Uzis and lives at No. 5160 could have a field day at this store.

Canned water? From the 60s by the look of the design. Although I don't know how pure it is by now. By the way, why do companies use words like "pure" and "premium" on their packaging? I mean it's not like you're going around Ralph's looking at stuff thinking, "Pure? I don't want that! Where's the water full of twigs and bits of dirt?"

"Impervious to nuclear fallout." I see a birthday pressie for that uncle in Montana...

This must be the official commemorative USC cheerleader doll. They even got the pose right.

SEPTEMBER 9: NICE TRY, EV

THIRTY percent off all books and no sales tax? No wonder Ev tried to hide this from me. Luckily for me (but unluckily for our bank account) I found this notice in the kitchen bin and immediately rescued it from certain doom. And tonight I took advantage of the sale to stock up... not that I need to, given I now have 490 books and a backlog of, er, never mind.

Here's the six books I picked up for $26. I've read The Haunting of Hill House before but none of the others. I've wanted to get into Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series for a while and got the first two, The Eyre Affair and Lost In A Good Book, for $10. Set in an alternate 1985, where England and Imperial Russia are still fighting the Crimean War and where the country is a police state under the Goliath Corporation, the novels follow the exploits of detective Thursday Next of the Literary Detectives. The stories involve books, dodos, mammoths, Swindon and Neanderthals. I might even get around to reading them in the next 15 years.

SEPTEMBER 8: BAY WATCHING

A COUPLE of weeks ago we took a 45-minute speedboat ride out into San Pedro Bay, around the breakwater and back again. Not that all of it was done at speed — once we'd taken 20 minutes to get out of the harbour we had five minutes of actual speedboating and then another 20-minute crawl back to the marina. I took some pics while we were out on the water.

This is a floating bait store. Fishermen use it to stock up. I've lived 200 yards from the ocean for five years and had no idea these existed.

This is the huge plume of smoke from the Station fire. Even thought it was 40 miles away it loomed over downtown Long Beach. Incredible.

SEPTEMBER 6

IESTYN gave himself a bath tonight so I grabbed the camera and took a snap. Click for the bigger version.

SEPTEMBER 6: WHAT IN THE NAME OF ARSE IS GOING ON IN OUR CEILING?

THE other night at work our usual witty banter and exchanging of insults was interrupted by an odd noise coming from the roof of our office. To our surprise it sounded like someone having a vigorous and enthusiastic shag just above the ceiling tiles. Well not someone, obviously, more like two someones. Whatever it was, I grabbed my Flip camcorder and recorded the sound for posterity.

I suppose it could be rats, we've had them in the roof before. But if it is they must be the size of pigs and have the stamina of a Frenchman who lives next door to a brothel.

SEPTEMBER 5: FUN WITH EMRIC

EARLY morning. Ev has taken her car to get it serviced. I'm lying in bed debating whether to get up or go back to sleep. Suddenly a gentle retching sound meets my ears as Emric throws up in my underwear drawer.

I wonder — if Emric had been around during Wordsworth's time, might things have turned out differently?

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw Emric

a-puking on the daffodils.

SEPTEMBER 4: GOODBYE TO ALL THAT

THIS is the San Franciscan from Billy's Diner. It's half a pound of medium-well beef with onions, jack cheese, mayonnaise and parmesan on grilled sourdough bread and served with a pile of proper chips. It's also the last item of this type I'm going to eat for quite a while. When I went to the doctors for my anti-depression meds they weighed me and by Christ was I thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed to learn how much I weigh (it's *cough* pounds). It didn't really do my self-respect any good. Not that I have that much, but still.

So while waiting to make another appointment we saw some diet sheets and took one. It's a 1,000-calorie-a-day diet balanced between carbs/proteins/fats. I'm planning on combining this with walking four miles a day. I mean shit, if that doesn't get the weight off I may as well try liposuction with the Dyson.

PLANET MUT is back on Facebook. You can become a fan with the button on the right. Sorry I went away, I get a bit unsociable when I'm depressed. Talking of depression, it's still there. And I've discovered how hard it is to describe what it's like to people who don't suffer from it... the lucky sods. Descriptions of the symptoms are met with blank stares and uncomprehending looks. Wish I didn't know anything about it, either.

SEPTEMBER 3: FUNERAL FUN

AND lo it came to pass that a certain freakish kiddie-fiddler was laid to rest in Glendale tonight; and there was much gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair on ye design deske; for not only did ye Jackson family arrive 90 minutes late for the funeral, they also stopped us from having the exclusive pics and story. The bastards. And I didn't get home until 1.10am.

“BLIMEY," I said to one of my colleagues today, "it's the 70th anniversary of the start of World War II."

"It's not December."

"Eh?"

"World War II started in December 1941."

"…" (I mean, what can you say?)

SEPTEMBER 2: I SUPPOSE YOU'RE BOTH WONDERING WHERE I'VE BEEN

THERE are three reasons why I've not updated this for the best part of three weeks. One is the redesign of the paper, the second is work and the third is depression, and all of them are pretty much rolled into one.

The redesign is virtually done and I just have to knock up some final-final-final versions of the pages by Friday. (Shit, I'd forgotten about that.) It went well but did pretty much take over my life for a while. I would wake up wondering if Antenna was the right headline font and if blue was really the right colour for the masthead. There were several times when I wanted to rip it up and start again but I stuck with it. We're supposed to be launching the new-look paper on October 1.

It was a lot of stress which has led to the depression which in turn led to me not being in the right frame of mind to update PM. I'm still not right but as several people have asked what's going on I thought I owed both of you an explanation. I've been put on stronger medication (which unfortunately will take a week to kick in) so hopefully that'll do something to help. I've also fallen back on a remedy that's helped me in the past — reading Spike Milligan's war diaries, which are not only hysterically funny but also a place I feel comfortable being lost in. I've shot through the first four and am now on Volume VI V, Where Have All The Bullets Gone? It's my second-favourite one and it is helping. As is listening to Eddie Izzard on my iPod. And watching Futurama. If it gets any worse I'll just turn to the ultimate depression beater — Calvin and Hobbes. They pretty much saved my life once, but that's for another time.