What were you doing last night? We were all finishing off our screenplays in a local coffee shop. One of them is about a boy who watches his very rich parents being killed in front of him by a mugger as they come out of the theatre, but who then grows up to become a recluse in his huge mansion, terrified that he'll die the same way. We're going to call it Scaredy Catman. HA HA. BOOM. FRESH PRINCE OF BEL AIR.

After being told yesterday that we ate shit after we dared to criticise the acting talents of Daniel, Rupert and Emma, we're seriously scared about mentioning their names. Even in a positive light. What if someone decides to kill us for not showing enough respect to these three thespian titans? Holy Moly. This must be what it was like for Terry Waite, trying to do good, only to be held captive by terrorists, in our case, word terrorists.