Before going to bed last night, I watched The Adam And Joe show. In it, they poked fun at the crop of memorabilia shows - Channel Four's Top Ten series, BBC2's I Love The 80s, etc. The Adam And Joe show opened: "Hi, and welcome to the Adam And Joe Show. Tonight we're looking at the Top Ten TV moments of all time. At number ten, it's the opening of the Adam And Show. Here's a clip:" "Hi, and welcome to the Adam And Joe Show. Tonight we're looking at the Top Ten TV moments of all time."

This self-referential postmodernism may go some way to explaining my dreams, in which I dreamed that I was dreaming. About dreaming. I kept waking up, but I wasn't sure if I was waking up from the real dream or the dream within a dream. Add to that last night's thunderstorm [it was real, wasn't it?] and you may understand why I am so tired this morning.

So tired that I didn't notice that I had cut myself shaving. While it bled profusely, I dressed, walked down to the tube, took the train into work, looking like someone had attempted to garotte me. And I'm wearing a white shirt, too. Or I was, anyway. The collar is now blood-soaked. And I have a posh book launch to attend tonight - I'm going as a bit of rough.