Not so long ago I posted an entry about some of the terms people had entered into search engines who were then, by the power of Google, delivered to my blog. Since then I’ve re-added the HTML sitemeter code to my main TKK blog, and I have to say I never realised Coleen Nolan was so popular. Well, at least her matronly breasts appear to be very popular these days.

To add to the frustration for those yet to finesse their use of search engines to find pornography, I’d like to add the following phrases to my blog:

“Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee home video.”

“Naked teenage girls.”

“Naked MILFs.”

“Naked Coleen Nolan.”

“Naked Vanessa Feltz pictures.”

"Justin Dunn sex tape."

And to those really that desperate for Coleen Nolan birthday suit pics, trust me, you won’t find them on the ‘net. You’ll have to break into Shane Ritchie’s flat for those erotic goodies.

The aging process can do strange thinks to the psyche. The move to a new flat and my initiation to the thirtysomething demographic has unearthed a domesticated side to me my sock drawer is struggling to process.

Yesterday, after cleaning the bathroom, I kept going back in at ten-minute intervals to admire my handiwork with the Mr Muscle and the Domestos. I’m sure I saw St Peter there at one point, convinced that such a pure glow meant the gates to heaven must have been moved to north London.

Ok, maybe I can’t take all the glory and should also credit the 100w bulb and the skylight (positioned over the bath and under a flight path, which means when I bathe I see planes flying over head), but we are talking about a show-room spectacular here, people.

Still can’t cook for shit, though, but at this current rate of domestic bliss I’ll be delivering thunderous tirades at the sous-chef that Gordon Ramsey will be stealing lines from.

Rather like Paul McCartney and Yesterday, I can't take the full credit for this brainstorm. I woke after a dream at 3 a.m. which had pointed out the uncanny resemblance between silky smooth passer Carrick and chef supreme Marlon Dingle. It's also worth noting that both Dingle and Carrick have gone hard into Kewell with a firm tackle.

Michael Carrick

Marlon Dingle

Uncanny!

French moralist La Rochefoucauld once almost said that "Some blogs are like ballads, that are in everyone’s mouth a little while", and the short-lived lifespan of many blogs proves our froggy friend right. According to blog.co.uk’s directory there are 35,675 open blogs on the site, although many of them are just vacant lots with "sorry, there is no post to display" at the top.

While it wouldn’t be a bad idea for some of these blogs to dematerialise in the same way as inactive Hotmail accounts, a quick trawl through the graveyard of blogs can lead to some haunting reads, almost like the last journal entry of someone before the plague swept through their town.

Take the final entry of Longlivebecks (last activity 176 days ago). Under the somewhat ironic heading of "Back Soon" her last entry on 20 August 06 read:

Two weeks until my return to England. Very strange how quickly time flew by.

What happened on her return? I guess we’ll never know.

Than there’s Charmaine_here (last activity 84 days ago):

"hey i think im gonna go for an exposure trip during my autumn breaks. one college society is orgainsing a trip to a small village in Madhya pradesh wher we'l be working with a grass root organistion, fighting for tribal and dalit rights. its not a fun trip. we're tol that teh village doesnt have loos, so we'll have to shit in farms and bathe in the village river......so im sure its gonnna be a memorable trip

baby was a little surprised and unhappy wen i told him about this thing..but the next minute he said that he cant be bad and wont stop me....he's nice, of course he wasnt being sarcastic and rud eto me wen he said that he cant stop me....butthen he knows that immade of a different material and cantbe so easily moulded into shapes that people want me to be...well sioemtimes i feel that it is just the opposite. i feel that im easily influenced by people..hmmm well fornow , this is enuf... "

Clearly that was more than ‘enuf’ from Charmaine. Maybe it was the exposure trip that done it for her.

Then there’s Pac5m (last activity 170 days ago) who promised us the:

“Chronicals [sic] of an American banker asshole living in London with a passion to document situational comedy, politics, employment and relationship faux pas, yadda yadda and bring to light "what you're really thinking".

Pac’s ‘passion’ lasted three days. His final entry on 25 August read:

"There’s nothing more annoying than someone you know stopping to speak to you while you’re running the treadmill at the gym. But first you just smile and nod because you think they’re going to walk by. But when they stop, you’re now forced to remove your headphones and attempt to carry on a conversation without hyperventilating. Just when you think it’s all over and you get back to your workout, the person passes by again, again stops to talk, again you have to annoyingly take your headphones off and try to speak without wheezing. Soon you start to wonder whether pressing the person’s face against the tread while you do two miles will cause permanent damage.

Enjoy your long weekend cruel world..."

Evidently a lost weekend for Pac as he never came back.

Where could all these bloggers be going? Could they be the victims of alien abduction?

It’s surely no coincidence that Raajdatta’s final entry (last activity 175 days ago) was on the subject of aliens (“Who actually are ALIENS or why they come????”):

"Jokes apart, The ongoing nuclear activities in our planet is a major cause for concern. It can not only blow our planet but at the same time adversely affect other adjoining systems. Remember the Hiroshima and Nagasaki ones, it was not the explosion that killed the people, but it was the after-effect that killed them and crippled the generations thereafter.

Such is the catastrophe that aliens do not want that to happen and that is the reason they visit us so often as if they are keeping a vigil. Government classified records show that nuclear war-heads have been disabled quite a number of times and word "ALIEN" is distinctly mentioned. It is just that they want us to remain in dark.

So, we are still the best at speculating! "

So what does it for all these bloggers? Alien abduction? Pneumonia contracted from bathing in village ponds and shitting in farms? Pressing against another person's tread? I reckon the real reason all these people go is

Now I may be Mr Smut, but don’t say I’m the only one who tittered at the above heading. But on a slightly more serious note, it really, really, is time that the dual meaning of the term ‘facial’ was acknowledged, and as a consequence the health product definition was moved on to another word.

I would prefer to walk into a reputable emporium such as Boots the Chemist and not be asked whether I’ve ever considered having a facial, and would I like a £2.50 voucher valid until the end of the month if I fancied taking up the offer. Believe me, the offer of a facial to the wrong man by a Boots shop assistant could be dangerous for their health.

Is it any wonder that metrosexuals haven’t yet done for the unreconstructed male what Homo sapiens did for the Neanderthal when the impression is their glowing complexion results from a regular facial?

An alternative term escapes me for now, but no more of these facial offers during daylight hours.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off for a long shower followed by a hard rubdown.

Next weeks is Valentine’s Day, which for merry pranksters like myself is second only to April Fool’s Day in the japes stakes. In this life I’ve sent far more cards out of jest instead of lust, and this year will be sending one to Doofy. The best bit is I’ll be off work on the day itself as I’m not sure I could keep a straight face when she opened the envelope. I’m thinking of something vaguely churchy so she suspects it’s one of the God Squad Do-gooders who visit the workplace on Tuesdays.

Occasionally, the merry prankster business can go awry. A few years ago I sent a card to someone I worked with, which I took the utmost care to disguise was from myself. The lass and myself had a bit of body heat between us which, in time, boiled over into mutual hostility. To this day I’m convinced the turning point was the time I turned down her invitation to go to lunch with her, which was also the day she had a bad back which I might have laughed at her for (next time I’ll go and offer to carry her dinner tray, not snort back laughter and say “best not take the stairs, then”).

I'd gone to great lengths to disguise the card before it made its journey through the internal post, and had handed the 'lettre d'amour' in amongst a pile of other letters. Unfortunately, the woman who sorted the post was a nosy old bag and when the news went round that Jac had received a VD card (don’t be smutty) put her thinking cap on (which must have been a deerstalker) and worked out the envelope came from my batch of post. Rather than keep this elementary deduction to herself she blabbed it out, making the last few weeks until I was fired rather tricky. To show there’s no hard feelings, I really hope you got that science job you were looking for, Jac. And then got run over.

However, occasionally, a well-intentioned prank can benefit the receiver as well as the sender. While in university a friend of mine had been feeling a bit down and out of sorts. My ladyfriend and I had sent him a card through the post (anonymously, natch), and rather than question its sincerity he took it heart. It really brightened up his day as he tried to work out who fancied him, which made me wonder why I didn’t make it an annual event.

So when Doofy opens up her VD card next Wednesday, here’s hoping for a positive result…