I got a lift back down to London after spending New Year up in Manchester.

The building work in the flat downstairs has not progressed since before Christmas. There is still a huge, overflowing skip directly outside the house but in addition to the bona fide construction-related waste it contained when I left just before New Year, there is now a selection of seasonal domestic rubbish presumably deposited by opportunistic neighbours: three copies of Russell Brand's My Booky Wook, a George Foreman grill with half a charred Turkey sticking out of it, a brand new, boxed HD-DVD player with "I said Blu-ray arsehole!" scrawled angrily on the front and at least 500 loose Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

On the journey down from Manchester I had plenty of time to think about my New Year's Resolutions and the final list is as follows:

1. Stop writing to Natalie Portman. Either she's not getting any of my letters or she just doesn't fancy going out for a Nando's, regardless of whether or not I pick up the tab
2. Stop wasting money on the bananas I buy just in case I get an unexpected visitor with a monkey; I don't know anyone with a monkey and if I find a stray one I can always lock it in the bathroom while I go out and buy some bananas
3. Stop wasting time and energy developing ideas for pun-based local businesses. If I'm brutally honest I have neither the knowledge nor the enthusiasm to set-up and run Speakers' Corner, the hi-fi chain sited on the junctions of busy roads, the fast food home delivery service catering specifically for Muslims, You Can Call Me Halal, or the Japanese noodle bar that shows US sitcom reruns while you eat, Everyone Loves Ramen.
4. Write a blog