Al-reet

I went out on the town last night, lured into the icy, almost empty streets by the promise of karaoke. I thought it would be good if I whipped up a little bit more interest in this weekend's auditions. Karaoke was happening at a pub called The Dog, and a rather motley crüe of individuals had braved the snow to gather there.

As I arrived, a cheeky chap with a ridiculously charming smile tapped me on the top of my flat cap and said "al-reeeeet". He then dropped to his knees and started to take photographs of my wellington boots, claiming never to have seen anything as cool as someone hanging out in a karaoke bar in wellies! I wasn't sure if he was taking the micky, but I'm not sure I care...

I think this was the turning point for me and Geordie folk. From then on I spoke to almost everyone I passed. It seems to be the thing to do. No wonder they think the Londoners are all rude bastards!

As I walked home I was astonished to see how many women were out and about wearing mini-dresses and 4-inch heels, despite the treacherous conditions. Similarly, almost every man I passed was dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.

One guy was standing behind me in the queue for the cash point, and I immediately forced him to go in front of me. "You're half naked!" I told him. He complimented me on my hat, no doubt because it looked warm, and I asked him why he didn't have a coat. Apparently his mates had ragged him so much for trying to wear one, he'd left it at home! These Geordies genuinely seem to be made of sterner stuff!!

Today's auditions took place south of the Tyne and the Wear in Sunderland, and the turn out was exceptional. I was so pleased. There were some brilliant stories and some wonderful faces and in some cases these were also accompanied by beautiful voices. We auditioned close to 50 people and only found one nutter, who told me he didn't need to be in the film because he was already a celebrity, and, he added, a Christian!

Is this the most beautiful bridge in the world?

My hotel is rammed full of stag parties. One suspects I won't be allowed to sleep tonight.

On this date in 1660, Parliament passed a bill stating that the bodies of Cromwell and other traitors should be exhumed from their graves at Westminster Abbey and drawn to the gallows where they should be hanged, which made Pepys feel uncomfortable that, "a man of so great courage as he was, should have that dishonour, though otherwise he might deserve it enough."