I've no idea what the drink tastes like. It could taste somewhere between pig swill and rodent urine for all I know. But I do know that diet coke burns the nose when you snort-laugh while drinking it. Because that's what this commercial made me do. This blue Cuckoo is the best product mascot since... no, wait. Hostile Blue Scottish Cuckoo is officially the best product mascot ever. *Note: This commercial was deemed offensive to Glaswegians and the company redubbed it with a posh English accent and pansy lyrics at one point, without changing the video. Which was even funnier, in a sort of way. But the public complaints about the changed version far exceeded the original version, so they happily switched it back.

I'm sitting in a hotel in Basel, Switzerland, a city which traces its history back to the Roman Empire and beyond. A city which boasts the oldest university in Switzerland, and which is famous for its cultural appreciation and plethora of art museums. Judge Judy is on TV. *shudder* Seriously, Swiss people. All of American television is laid out before you to choose from, and Judge Judy Sheindlin is the best you can come up with? I'd rather take a Joey re-run in the eye than watch Judge Judy. Oh wait... commercial break's over. Back to the Judge.

Last week, I had the pleasure of returning to Germany for work. The trip was great. But it was the day before the the airports went banana over the recent terrorist plot. (Not that I'm complaining. If given the choice between inconvenience or dying in a fiery ball thousands of feet over the earth, I'll pretty much always go with 'inconvenience'). My colleague and I planned to get back to the Frankfurt airport a bit early, to make sure that we had ample time to get checked in and go through security. We were both flying British Airways (to different airports - he was going to Heathrow, I was headed back through the Manchester airport), and so we checked in seperately. Surprisingly, they let us have out bags on the plane, as long as there were no liquids included. Seemed pretty reasonable to me. "But you'll have to check that, sir." "What, this? It's an instrument. You let me carry it on the other flights." "Yes sir, but with the heightened security risk, you'll have to check it, I'm afraid." "Can't I check it at the gate? I hate putting it in the hold, as it's fairly fragile." "I'm sorry sir, it's due to the potential risk of terrorism." "And I thank you for keeping me safe. But look. It's a banjo. You're pretty safe unless I try and play it. It's not liquid, I promise." No go... I had to check it in. They stood firm behind their "no banjos in carry-on" position. I do love my new little banjo (the one on the left, next to my normal sized one) - it's just small enough to go everywhere I go now. Which probably means I'll be invited to go less places - which, given the determination to ruin your day the average lunatic has been displaying, is Not A Bad Thing (TM)