That might seem harsh. And it's not applied to all ginger women (many of whom are at least better than average). It is really my belated response to being lied to by a till operator at the W H Smith in Belfast City Airport.

I can understand lying sometimes - no matter what Kant thought, it is probably right to lie to prevent a murderer killing your friend. But this retail retard was not preventing an act of homicide. No no. She was preventing me from receiving my change in English notes.

As you all know, the English often have a peculiar reaction to being presented with Northern Irish notes. There is a bit of uncomfortable umming, followed by a little silence, before the embarrassed 'I'm sorry but...' makes an appearance. So I normally use the airport to rid myself of Ulster Bank and Northern Bank notes. I've never had a problem - I mean it hardly matters to W H Smith staff what type of notes are in their till drawer.

So how did I know the ginger cretin was lying when she told me she had no English notes? From using my eyes to see the neat little row of English £5 notes in her till drawer. Just before she slammed it shut and shouted 'next'.

Bitch.

This Friday, Jeff Bridges is back. The Dude is starring as 'Bad' Blake, an alcoholic country and western singer, in the film Crazy Heart.

As all you Big Lebowski lovers will know, Bridges has already been nominated four times for an Oscar*, and his work in this film has secured him a fifth. He has never won. 

Now, whether you think a film about country and western, single moms, and musical redemption is Oscar fare or not, this is perhaps Bridges' last opportunity to win. So wherever you are in the UK, be it Glasgow, Manchester, Belfast or London, I think we should all do our bit for the Dude, stick it to the Man, and go see his new film. 

Plus Mike you will want to see it because of an appearance from a certain Maggie Gyllenhaal...

*The Last Picture Show, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, Starman, and the Contender.

Walter Frederick Morrison, the inventor of the frisebee, died today, aged 90.

For more details, visit the BBC website:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/8512198.stm

I expect Phil will be commenting on this sad news in the coming days so in the meantime take what follows as a minute's silent reflection.

 I really hope no outsiders were trying to keep up with the MTL, since I guess I never got round to celebrating the eventual victor. I got lazy and busy. I do apologize. But Michael Henderson's Prypiat Giant Rats will be celebrated plenty on Sunday night, at what is the concluding event of easily the greatest Superbowl Weekend Event in the UK. 

It's late and I don't have much to say. But this is what i'll be bringing to the table on Sunday night. 

Say hello to a litre of sauce, about 10lbs of pulled pork, 40 ribs, 40 wings and a whole load of Texas style beans.

Ribs, wings, and pork butt, each clingfilmed and refrigerated in their own specific Christie 'Q Rub over night.

(I couldn't resist. I had a wing. I'm not exaggerating when I say it's probably the best wing i've ever tasted that wasn't made at a WingStop.)

Half of the pork, just as it is about to be slow cooked to heaven.

Half of the pulled pork, lightly dressed, juicy and tender as you've ever eaten. 

A kilo of pinto beans, soaking overnight. I have a date with those bad boys at 9AM. 

Good lord I love Superbowl Weekend.

This is a question to all you women-loving (and men-loving if that's your ting) gentlemen out there (apologies if I am assuming too much about the mm demographic here).

In a fortnight's time, Valentine's Day will be upon us. For the young, free and single, Valentine's Day will pass them by in the same way that Burns' night leaves no indelible mark upon those outside of Scotland (and most of those living in that place as well).

But for those of us with lady friends/lovers/other halves/significant others/wives, Valentine's poses a bloody tricky question. Do you go all out and spoil your lady, over-doing things by throwing chocolates, flowers, a meal at a restaurant and a trip to the theatre/cinema/dog-track*? Or do you take a more subtle approach and treat Valentine's as a day where you buy her nothing but deliver caring and cost-effective comments such as 'your hair does look like it is attached to your head' and 'I do love the way that you have two eyes'.

If you plump for the former, you risk having to out-do your performance year on year, lest the lady in your life begins to doubt your continuing love. If you plump for the latter, well, you're basically saying that you couldn't be arsed.

What does mm think? Where is the line to be drawn between extravagence and neglect?

*not literally. Past experience says this is a mistake and one your lady companion will not forgive in a hurry. If she survives the deluge of objects flying through the air in her general direction

Disclaimer: comments will not be used as the basis of my treatment of Fiona this Valentine's. As you all know, I'm a soppy romantic at heart and have a veritable carnival of show- and heart-stopping moments planned for that weekend.