Today's task is from the August 2nd entry, and we're now back in order again. I have to RUN A FIRST TIME READER AUDIT ON MY BLOG. Thanks Kaz for your time on this.

The way it's meant to work is that the subject surfs while I observe, resplendent in white lab coat and scribbling technical notes on my clipboard. The wine, gin and Courvoisier weren't strictly a correct application of the scientific method, but otherwise everything was in place. I was right, science is fun.

Kaz didn't know how blogs worked, so I explained. I like to explain. This in itself invalidated the whole exercise, but fortunately had no effect on the Courvoisier. She read all the anti-religious stuff, was apathetic about space and football, and just scrolled up and down, rather than using the tags. She didn't care about your comments at all (although please be assured that I do).

I didn't get to ask her any questions because she had to head off, but she emailed me a response this morning. She says my blog is fascinating, which is very insightful of her, but that to attack religion is to miss the point, and there are more urgent targets. I'll respond to you in detail, Kaz, but the main thing that struck me was that you were debating me as if I was somehow responsible for the contents of my blog.

In actual fact, I myself am so far from being the 'author' that I'm sometimes reduced to posting comments apologising for it. Oh, I'm fairly sure I was in charge at the start, but now I barely remember what that was like. Not that I'm 'channelling', or some bullshit - it all comes from the bloody clump of neurons I'm staring out at the screen from right now - but I don't 'write' the blog, any more than I 'breathe' my lungs. As Nietzsche said, I never had any choice. If you want to speak to the real author, leave messages for Jessica. Don't catch her eye in the mirror, it's disturbing.

Oh, and be glad she's writing the blog and I'm living the life. It could just as easily have been the other way round.

I wrote this to go in the Euro 2008 roundup, then left it in drafts by mistake.

And after all that, we're still not there. I said it would be difficult. When the draw was made and everyone was going on about what an easy draw it was, I was the one saying no, it's tougher than you reckon. If only I'd said it online, I'd have some evidence to point at.

England still need to win their outstanding fixtures to be sure of a place. Fortunately, the top two teams in every group go through, which means that only one out of the three real contenders in our group won't make it.

And if you're wondering why it matters, I can only quote the words of Russell Brand.

It's awful when England don't qualify. I'd rather watch every woman I've ever loved drunkenly fellating handsome idiots at a bus depot than sit through another USA '94. Actually the bus depot thing could be quite sexy, inducing a masturbatory experience that flits between jealousy and intense excitement, where one cries, despite oneself, during the act of onanism.

One suspects that to supply a separate handsome idiot for every woman Russell Brand had ever loved would stretch the average provincial bus depot beyond its limits. He's probably imagining Victoria, or at least Digbeth.

If the worst should happen, he further posits a nation lost in sexual flagellation - which would be an awful, Catholic, Marvin Gaye anthem: "In this situation I need, sexual flagellation, get up, get up, get up, let's cry-wank tonight"

This quote came from his regular column in the sports section of the Saturday Guardian. You probably know him from his other career on the idiot box, but as far as I'm concerned, this is his day job. I spent half a day looking for my online 'competition' recently, and here I am being knocked sideways into a cocked hat by our pre-eminent celebrifop, who (literally) tosses off a piece of surreal, humanitarian brilliance every week before modestly retreating into the lesser world of TV celebrity, as if the higher calling of comic journalist was somehow beyond him. I just hope he doesn't start writing about atheism, or I'm screwed.

Catch his column in the Saturday Guardian. It's worth the £1.70 on its own. Oh hang on, what am I talking about, they put it on the website so you can get it for free. It's the kind of thing that makes Andrew Keen eat his shorts in frustration.