was feeling down today, but luckily there was that great working-class opiate, football to the rescue. except it wasn't really working class, i ended up in stamford bridge watching abramovich's millionaires thrashing wycombe (my football manager squad)

just as i was around virgin megastore, they played alanis morrissette's "that i would be good". sort of a sign perhaps, or just perhaps a desperate plea, that we'd all be accepted even when they're our worse selves. the problem is, we hardly know how bad we look at the time do we?