...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

What the fuck is happening in my house?!

Having Lee here is making me feel like fucking Amalthea in the catacombs beneath King Haggard's castle - every time I turn a corner, I'm frightened that the Red Bull is going to be standing there, waiting to bore me with some boring anecdote about his boring drunken exploits with his boring Spam-sandwich girlfriend, until eventually I just rush into the sea in blind terror and never regain the courage to set foot on dry land again.

Dudes, seriously. NO CONCEPT OF PRIVACY. I went out last night and when I came back my friend and I were sat in the lounge, with the doors closed, which in our house is code for "do not disturb", and he barged in and stood there for like five minutes just watching us. Christ Almighty, kid - a guy, a girl, a shut door - stay the fuck out!

It isn't just me, either - the boys are noticing it too. I just found Buzz and the Prawn hiding in the airing cupboard because they thought I was Lee and they couldn't take another conversation with him. They're twenty and they'd hiding in a fucking airing cupboard like the kids in Jurassic Park trying to escape from the raptors, except in this case it's worse because the raptor doesn't eat you, he just slowly destroys your spirit with endless tales about how he got "so pissed" the night before and "threw up everywhere" and "didn't know where I was". NOBODY CARES, BE QUIET!

Prawn waited for four hours to get his breakfast this morning because he wanted to be absolutely sure Lee was gone for the day before he came out of his room. When Buzz walked into the kitchen he found Prawn lying behind the breakfast bar trying to hide. Johnny's put a spy-hole in his bedroom door so he doesn't accidently open the door to him again, and he's got Hayley spending every single night here just so he has an excuse to leave the room quickly if Lee comes in.

Jesus. I just read that back and it makes us sound like a right bunch of utter bastards, but Christ, I can't help it! Everything that comes out of this kid's mouth is so completely stupid and dull and I feel like one of those animals that gets caught in a snare and chews off it's own leg to get away. There's a limit to how much pointless teenage bullshit I can put up with, and as it turns out, that limit is somewhere between "five minutes" and "absolutely none at all, go away."

I should be more sympathetic, really - he's not any more tedious than thousands of other teenagers across the country who are convinced that their thoughts and feelings are the most unique and special in the whole universe and feel compelled to share their amazing insights with humanity at large. It's just that, well... the boredom and irritation that comes with being talked at be someone who's boring and irritating isn't lessened by the realisation that there is a great mass of equally bored and irritated people currently being talked at by other equally boring and irritating people spread over the globe.

I desperately need Johnny to put a spyhole in my door.

If you could travel back in time, what would you do?

Aside from blasting Chinky Chinkerton with a laser gun when she asked me to work on the EU project with her, I'd like to travel back in time to when it was socailly acceptable to own a haram of boys. Ancient Rome or something. Maybe Greece or Venice. Wherever people were big with the boy-molestin'. And I'd warn myself not to watch Queen of the Damned, and not to cling to some foolish hope that it might not be as shitty as it looked.

Amassing an army of dinosaurs would be pretty cool, too. I could rule the world with them.

Oh, and I'd castrate Graham Norton's parents. Or maybe just kill them. And destroy their bodies, to prevent any chance of cloning.