Save me from extinction - all donations gratefully received

Yes: voles are recovering from your wanton carelessness and cruelty. Numbers have doubled recently (I can't embed this delightful video, unfortunately). I'm still endangered though, so any donations to either me, The Wildlife Trust for Birmingham and the Black Country, or The Watervole Project in London, which give special care to voles, will be gratefully received.

Meanwhile, Ireland have thrashed Bangladesh. Next up: India, later in the week. I'm off to nibble shoots now.

Beer My Dear

I've just been to see Mark Steel, the comedian. I didn't just pop round to his house, of course. He was doing a gig in the back bar of the Civic Hall (which didn't impress him much, nor me, in the harsh light of sobriety). He was, though, very funny, once he'd got past the opening 'is Walsall the local rivals?' spiel. I did learn from him, after nearly ten years, the difference between Brummie and Black Country accents, and he explained Marx's theory of alienation by using the phrase 'here come the little fuckers' about apple pies. I will be incorporating this into my lectures at every opportunity.

It cost £12 to see Mark Steel make me laugh and think for two solid hours. In the bar, I bought 3 bottles of Corona, each one containing exactly half a pint. This cost me £10.20. So according to the Civic Hall, about one hour and forty minutes of well-known, witty and talented Mark Steel is worth one and three quarters of a pint of average lager. It is certainly the most expensive beer I have ever drunk. I've signed petitions about all sorts of terrible events and worthy causes, but I'm furious about this one - it's just so eye-gougingly expensive. To the barricades!

(Sorry about the Marvin Gaye reference in the post's title. He won't mind. Because his dad shot him dead).

Twitter this, you hairstyled chancers

Rather than mark essays, I spent the last hour at Alchemy (a pleasant café which turns into something less salubrious at night), attending a 'Black Country Social Media Café'. It was as revoltingly smug, self-congratulatory and self-regarding as it sounds. Lots of businessmen on the make and people with 'directional' haircuts preening themselves for having heard of various items of software. A local 'journalist' (' ' because she works for the Express and Swastika) was present, as was a gimp with a camera. Needless to say, I hovered around the edges, repressing rage.

I'm offering a remedial style consultation today. I would like to stress that a custom-made t-shirt bearing your Twitter address is NEVER, EVER ACCEPTABLE. You arrogant, narcissistic idiots.

Shazam! Pow!

I'm not really one for comics. Or even graphic novels, other than Alan Moore and Green Lantern, but I thought Bostin' Heroes deserved maximum respect, simply for being set in the Black Country (not a racist term, foreign readers) and for having a decent sense of humour.