I can't beleive it, David's out.

My beloved nephew, who lives in East Anglia, likes to have a kick about with a football. But, like most four year olds, he's prone to bending over and picking the ball up from time to time. I resist telling him off for now but I realise that as he gets bigger he'll have to learn that picking the ball up will earn him a kicking from the other boys and may even turn him into a nancy boy.

Incredibly, in some parts of the world, picking up the ball and running away with it is normal behaviour. They call it rugby.

In Wales, Western England and a few islands on the other side of the world rugby is played and watched by the mainstream population. Mainly because the gene pool in these places have a high prevalence of the LP281y+ gene which codes for a thick skull. A thick skull is needed in rugby because there is a tendency for the head to get jammed between the buttocks of the player or players in front.

Rugby is played in other parts of the world but only by gays and mentalists.

Unfortunately, I find myself living in a rugby area. It doesn't bother me too much except that it makes the local pubs a bit dangerous on a Saturday night because the other effect of the LP281y+ gene is that one pint of lager turns you into a violent dickhead.

I had been looking forward to tonight. Sunderland were playing and it was live on Sky. I'm too mean to subscribe to the Sky football package and anyway, it's much better to watch it in the pub with a bit of an atmosphere. Imagine my disappointment when I arrived at the pub to find that Sky were also covering a rugby game between the local team Gloucester and big rivals Bristol.

I had no chance. In fact I had to leave the pub in a hurry after I naively asked if I could watch the football. How was I to know it was a top of the table clash?

I checked 7 more pubs but the story was the same in each one. By the time I returned home I hadn't seen a kick and Sundeland were 1-0 down.

But all's well that ends well because Sunderland got a draw in the end and Gloucester were beaten by the last kick of the game when despite the ball going over the bar, they gave Bristol some points anyway.

How come; if you book Friday off work, the week flies over. But if you have Monday off, by Wednesday afternoon you're already sick as a chip?

No, really, there's nowt funny here and if you don't know me personally then it won't be remotely interesting either. Thanks for looking anyway (I could do with the view count); if you'd like to be better entertained then scroll on down and read my other stuff - my diet update is canny and so are my denunciations on weather forcasters.

Still here? Well don't say I didn't warn you.

I took Friday and Monday off work so that I could meet up with some former colleagues in Hertfordshire and then spend some time with my beloved nephew in Norfolk.

We started drinking soon after 5pm on Friday in the works social club. I was pleasantly surprised at the people who turned up (especially M, T and G whom I wasn't expecting to see). I met S's daughter J (or is it G?) for the first time and I think we got on very well. Despite looking the image of her papa, she is a very beautiful baby. Having Italian and German parents and living in England means she can gurgle in 3 languages.

We then proceded to a bar restautant and had a niceish meal. The most noteworthy thing about this event was that it was the first time I had paid more that £3 for a pint of beer. Still it was pleasant.

That was followed by some more binge drinking, a taxi ride to M's place, some drunken conversation and bed (actually sofa) at about 4am.

Blow me if the bugger didn't wake me up again at 8:30! What's the matter with the bloke? Anyway, I assessed that I was fit to drive again by 12 noon and I was on my way to Norfolk.

My sister-in-law doesn't let me tell D that I'm coming to see him. She says it gets him too excited. Anyway, I got a big hug from him when I arrived. I done the usual stuff, kicked the ball around outside, then took him to the play park (he'd probably be the Norfolk Under-5 roundabout champion if such contests existed.

When we got home I set D up with a user account on his mum's new computer. He now has www.cbeebies as his home page - his favorite game is the Come Outside one.

On Sunday, we went to the most easterly point of the UK and played on the beach with his digger. He spent much of the rest of Sunday watching videos of cats doing daft things on YouTube.com.

Yesterday, I took him to school in the morning. It was a really emotional event for me. I got to take him right into the classroom and he seemed dead chuffed to be able to show me round. My last sight of him was him sitting in the arc of other kids in front of teacher's chair smiling and waving.

I drove off back to Gloucestershire with that and other images in my head making me feel very melancholy indeed. Not for the first time, I asked myself 'why am I going away?'.

....all feature strongly in the film Borat. I went to see it the other night - verrrrry funny. Or at least I thought so, the wife thought it was "ok".

There is a fight scene halfway through it that will stay with me forever.

I listened to an Item on BBC Radio 4 tonight about someone putting on a show entitled "The N Word". Or at least that was how the presenter kept refering to it; the true identity of "the N word" was left to the listener's conjecture. But in fact, it is fairly obvious to all what N stands for.

Why are there a few words that are considered so offensive that they cannot be uttered in public? I think these days there are only two and the other one starts with C.

Yet between mates, blokes have no linguistic barriers; all words are allowable, almost obligatory. On the other hand,I asked my wife and she says that between girls it is ok to use nearly every swear word except the C word. I wonder why that is?

As for the N word, I must say that I have friends who would use it; and such use would normally be very offensive. I'm certainly not proud of it and some would say that I shouldn't mix with people like that but in my defence I declare that whenever the N word arises in a joke, a sporting commentary or a half-baked political opinion, I would always denounce it, despite it usually souring the conversation, or even putting the friendship at risk, for a while.

So indeed, despite my liberal attitude, I too am offended by the use of the 'N' word, but it's really the context the word is used in rather than the word itself. Because I understand that fact, I think I have the right to use the whole word in the final paragraph of this blog.

At a very deep level I am prejudiced, probably at quite a shallow level too. Maybe everyone is. I wouldn't say it was human nature, but it is to do with the environment you were brought up in, and what is engrained in you in childhood is very difficult to root out.

So that is my excuse, I was brought up in Sunderland and Black and White was something alien, something strange, something bordering on evil. As an adult, I have managed to suppress my prejudice to some extent and even have friends who are one of them. But I still find it difficult, scary, offensive, obscene even, to hear or use the word 'Newcastle'.

During the break in The X Factor, I thought I'd just write you a blog to remind/inform you that British TV's best programme starts a new series on Monday at 9pm GMT.

I speak of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!

There is nowt better than watching failed celebrities doing disgusting stuff in a desperate attempt to get a bit of work. Remember, this is a show which brought you Jordon and Peter.

Furthermore Ant and Dec are the acceptable face of Geordieism.

http://celebrity.itv.com/

Get yourself in the mood by going to www.YouTube.com and searching for Paul Burrell

Two weeks ago 108.5kg
Last Tuesday 109.5kg

After last week's setback I decided to give up all sweets, chocolate, biccies and cakes. I've not had any for 7 whole days now.

This morning:

109.0kg

Bolox to it. I had two nice biccies with my tea this morning.

Do you think I ahould write a diet book?

Football results often determine my mood at the weekend. I know that's a bit irrational but there's not much I can do about it. It's in my blood, always has been, always will be.

Normally the fact that Sunderland lost would put me in a downer but this weekend, their 1-0 defeat at Norwich is a sideshow to the main event.

Newcastle lost 1-0 at home to Sheff Utd and are now 2nd from bottom in the Premiership. Crisis has set in. The fans massed outside the ground after the game to sing their best known chant. No, "not Blaydon Races", but "Sack the Board".

The poor buggers don't know whether to call for the manager to go first or the chairman. Or whether to demand the signing of 3 strikers or 3 defenders.

I've always felt priveleged to be a Sunderland supporter; not because we've done anything great since 1973 but because hating Newcastle is such good fun. No matter how well they are doing, there's always another crisis just round the corner.

This time, fingers crossed, maybe it'll be the big one - Relegation

Well he hasn't yet, but remember where you read it first.

In an earlier blog I mentioned that a major reason for my portliness was my mental association of a cup of tea with a nice piece of cake or a biccy.

In an attempt to break that association I am now looking for alternative things to have with my cuppa. So far, all I've come up with is a banana.

(putting aside the old 'does a banana go with a cup of tea? debate for now)

Can anyone suggest anything else that is not fatty or sugary that goes with a cup of tea?

The night before last the ITN weather girl had the audacity to tell me I'd have to scrape the ice off my car in the morning. To make such a bold statement she had to assume:

1. I had a car
2. I'd be getting up early
3. I'd be using my car
4. I didn't keep my car in a garage
5. I didn't cover the windscreen with something the night before
6. I didn't have any de-icer
7. I'd be unable to pursuade someone else to scrape the windscreen for me
8. It would be frosty overnight

So that's eight assumptions about me and the weather; though to be fair, she is paid to make predictions like no.8. Who does she think she is, Nostrodamus?

The fact that she was absolutely right about every single one of them is of no relevence at all.

I'm having a bit of a reunion with some former colleagues in a couple of weekends time and I've put on a bit of weight since I last saw them. So last week I decided to make a concerted effort to lose a bit.

Last Tuesday I was 108.5 kg
Yesterday I was 109.5 kg