Let the dangers of drinking fine belgian beer and listening to Johnny Cash be known! Read all about it here

I've been off sick since Monday, and much like paid leave there is something to be said for sick leave. I'm beginning to think that this level of conformity has it's merits. I spent yesterday getting my employees stock option plan in order, I'll start with an investment of 5% of my annual salary, it's a quarterly commitment so I'll either opt out or let the money-loving svengali's roll the bones with my pittance and see what kind of return I get from the canal they drill so close the root of all evil on my behalf. I can't lose, any loss in stock value is reimbursed so in effect it's a savings pot that, according to the soothsayers, should triple in value by 2007. If all goes well, I'll take what I pump into my pension and play the fast track in money magick.

Magick indeed; two little white pellets laced with ignatia 6c now tango on my tongue. I wonder if work will accept the fact that I refuse to see a GP here on the grounds that I think I am more qualified to make a diagnosis on myself. When it comes to surgery I don't think much can be disputed, if there's a lump in your brain, it must come out, if your innards are bursting through your abdominal wall, they quite simply need to be pushed back in and a patch applied to seal them in. Much like DIY, there's nothing a bit of glue can't fix.