I came to uni to study

But instead ended up in front of the computer trying to pick my jaw off the floor after reading that Claire had been harassing my cooking before she'd even seen it. I'd understand Mike going online to proclaim my hackneyed culinary ability. At least he's tried it. And I will admit that my sauce could have been a little thicker, but frankly, not everything in our flat is not going to be like Claire.

I'm trying to establish a somewhat sophisticated reputation here. While I realise that goal is largely defunct after the posting of my first blog and my refusal to edit anything after typing it (a faint, cursory glance to the ideal of actually working on my thesis), random and uncalled for insults are hardly going to help me impress anyone. Well, I'm kidding on most counts but my cooking? Mamma bella mia!?! Everyone knows that the key to a nice, romantic homemade meal is the homemade meal. The trick is to get the girl (guess who) to the meal. Then I can wow them with my sophisticated charm and humour (I can be subtle, Ben). The tomato sauce, peanut satay sauce or my delicate white sauce on the exquisite blue cod I bought from Captain Ben's is a foolsafe plan to trick her into thinking that I am actually a lovely charming bloke. (I'm assuming that utter bastards traditionally have a reputation of not being able to cook. I may have invented that theory 10 minutes ago, but I'm sticking with it).

I'm so transparent!

So yes, Claire has a blog. I have to admit I'm at least partly responsible, walking her through the difficult stages such as 'this is where you type your name'. I shouldn't be too hard on her, however. I'm always a fan of anyone who puts me in the same links area as the World Bank. I am that important, although I haven't screwed that many people.

I'm trying, damnit.