There’s not a lot going on that I feel strongly enough or know enough about to blog on today, so you’ll have to make so with some links. I think it’s something to do with working in an office where the temperature never falls below 33 degrees and the collection of fans on my desk just circulate hot air. Oh, the joys of working in the voluntary sector. (I think Tom understands - that’s the second post referencing Third Sector, quite the most boring trade journal ever, inside a month, mate - are you feeling okay?)

So, if you’d like to know what that coveted campaigning job holds when you finally get your greasy little mitts on it, here you are. Tomorrow I have a photo shoot in the morning on the lovely Blackbird Leys estate; clearly having been hot hot hot all week, it will pour rivulets straight onto the camera lens the minute we appear. That will be followed by an extended afternoon session of grappling with my designer, courier, electrics technician, set-up supplier, voice-over artists and furniture supplier, not to mention my valued colleagues. But never fear, all will be revealed in glory in Brighton, provided the natural caution of the voluntary sector (at least my bit of it) to pelt as fast as they can towards the middle of the road can be overcome.

I hate August - everyone else is on holiday and sending me those sodding out of office auto replies, and I’m choosing canapes and desperately trying to persuade the accommodation bureau that they want to find me just one more hotel room at triple the usual price for some over-rated seaside town in the middle of nowhere.

So, read these fine posts in lieu of a fine post from me:

I loved this, from World o’Crap, taking apart the advice given in the as yet unpublished book “How fathers can win child custody”. The original article suggests a variety of ways to screw over your ex-wife, including taping her, collecting evidence of her mental instability, harassing her, and getting a child psychologist to ask your children leading questions to “prove” that she’s not a suitable mother. It’s snarky, bitchy and unrestrainedly feminist - I wish I’d written it.

This blog is one of the best refutations of the ex-gay movement I’ve seen, and touching with it, quite out of sympathy with my hard-bitten mood this evening. Yet how can the verdant symbolism of the garden fail to move the hardest of homophobe hearts?

And finally, over at the drink-soaked trots, Spirit of 1976 shows that leftwing sexism still exists by way of a photo of luscious Luciana, and then crowns his achievement by telling my objecting girlfriend that she’s welcome to compile a list of top male political totty. That made me giggle, just a bit.