So then I thought I was fit, with my three to four gym sessions and a couple of runs a week – until I played rounders in June and realised I could not sprint as my legs would just jam. So I started high-intensity interval training and added one weights session a week just doing legs weights workouts.

And yesterday I thought I was really really fit, and I played gay rounders again (same rules as proper rounders, but played with so much more style) and yes I could run fast, and stop, and run faster to the next base, and stop, then run even faster all round the pitch – until this morning when I felt a sharp pain at the top of the front of my thighs that makes walking difficult, and crossing my legs virtually impossible unless I lift one leg with both hands. Absolutely nothing broken or pulled, just sore muscles that I had no idea existed.

Compared to the two injuries we had yesterday (my team's captain a player from another team both went for fourth base, met in a mid-air collision and both split their faces open) I was very lucky.

And my team won – by all means not thanks to me, whose greatest achievement yesterday was to manage to bat and hit the ball – twice!

I have just downloaded it now (it would be cool to set a record for number of downloads in 24 hours), but I will probably wait a bit before installing it because

• it is always recommended not to install just-released software straight away;
• some people I know are experiencing problems with Firefox 3;
• last time I checked, not all add-ons work with Firefox 3 yet.

If you have installed Firefox 3 and want to revert, you can download previous versions of Firefox.

I will probably download and install the Firefox 3 Portable Edition that can run alongside old versions, until I am sure I want to upgrade for good.

So yes, I went out last night. I never ever go out on a school night these days, so I limited myself to three pints, and yet I am not feeling too good this morning, but fortunately I am going to be staying later at work tonight because I have a Spanish class at 6.30PM, so I can go in later than usual. Ooh I'm rambling aren't I?

Yes, I was saying I went out. And had a very good time with Jonathan, David and Ian at Retro Bar. We saw Dave and Simon and took part in the weekly Pop Quiz.

I expect Jonathan to write about it on his blog today [update: he did]. I hope he does, because all I can remember is that our team came second with 18 out of 21 points. I cannot even remember the name of the team, apart that it was picked by flicking through a copy of Boyz and pointing randomly at some text.

Right then. Coffee, porridge, Nurofen Plus, shower, then off to work.

Do you want to get rid of that little bit of extra weight you put on at Christmas? You are still in time to turn into a gay man and book yourself on a flight to Australia to attend Sydney Mardi Gras. The pressure to look fabulous will keep all temptations away and you'll soon swap evenings on the couch scoffing chocolates for runs on the treadmill chugging protein shakes.

Yes we are on a diet. But today I am going to make Dr B. happy and satisfy yesterday's request to have bacon (from Tesco's Healthy Eating range) and eggs (poached) for breakfast.

And then we'll rush to the gym to burn it all off.

Dobbiamo essere in forma per Mardi Gras
We must be in shape for Mardi Gras
Literally: '(We) must be in shape for Mardi Gras'.

If you want to find out more

You cannot translate 'What are you having' literally in Italian, it simply would not make sense. Instead, you can ask 'Cosa mangi?' (What are you eating) or 'Cosa bevi?' (What are you drinking?). Just like in English, these questions can translate both the enquiry about what is actually eating/drinking that very moment, or the question 'What would you like to eat/drink'.

The Italian equivalent of Mardi Gras would be 'Martedì grasso'. However, in this case you'd probably say it in English because it's the name of a specific event. Besides, Dr B. enjoys poking fun at me when I speak Italian and then suddenly an English word sticks out like a sore thumb.

An Italian senator who announced he wanted to switch back to support the government (after his party withdrew from the ruling coalition, thereby causing the prime minister to resign and the government to fall), was called a "piece of shit, traitor, cuckold, queer".

Another senator made a hand gesture as if to shoot him, and a colleague called him "wretched poof".

The insulted senator was reportedly spat on, fainted and was carried out of the Senate on a stretcher.

So today's sad Italian lesson is that regardless of their sexuality (I have a hunch that the insulted senator is as straight as they come), queer, faggot and poof are handy words that in 2008 are still perfectly apt to be used at all levels and in all official circumstances to describe your opponents.

• Prodi resigns after losing vote
• Senato, Cusumano annuncia il sì aggredito e offeso anche da An

Non torno spesso in Italia
I don't go back to Italy often
Literally: '(I) not return often in Italy'.

Last night at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern it appeared that the whole Spanish expat community knows her well.

It was a riot, with Spanglish banter and a handful of songs (Can't Get You Out Of My Head, Hung Up, Two Hearts, Let Me Out) sung with Spanish lyrics (Let Me Out became Enajena, for instance) along with the adoring crowd.

She also sang the English version of Libérate, the official hymn of this year's Europride in Madrid.

• Lyrics of Time Goes By (Con Loli)
• A few pictures of La Terremoto I took last night

A friend sent me this notice he found posted at his gym, which I don't think it's even one of the gayest in town.

You go to a gym? Then you are expected to be supple enough to soap your own back.

Otherwise, they will preserve it as inappropriate behaviour. Preserve, regard, same thing…

Well that was fun. For those that missed it David Hoyle was back on form last night – we had the return of one of the guys from Crime and Punishment with his partner and their new baby followed by a 70 year old reformed alcoholic and ex tramp. He had a very interedting story to tell and importantly this time David shut up and let him speak. He was also quite witty. All in all it was the best one I've seen. He is next on at the RVT on the friday before worlds aids day with a show about unprotected sex and gay life in generally entitled something like 'the worlds largest suicide sect'

TTFN

S

Well yes, he's smart. And very eloquent, which for once is a very welcome change from tired old queer routines with the same few innuendos.

Part one was very good. Stand-up stuff on immigration (last night's theme), probably mostly unscripted, great humour, and a fantastic command of the audience.

Then in part two he interviewed a man from Uganda who was imprisoned in his own country on grounds of being gay, then came to the UK, claimed asylum and was imprisoned again while waiting for a decision from the Home Office. If this sounds very vague to you, do not be surprised. I would know more about what happened to this man if David Hoyle had let him finish a single sentence while interviewing him. Also, you had the very distinct feeling that he did not know where he was going with this.

I found this very annoying and some of the stuff that was said made me feel uncomfortable. But I guess if that's precisely what was to be achieved?

I did not stay for part three though. I must ask Dr B. what I missed, but judging from a friend's description from the previous week ('there's some very loud music, and David Hoyle paints a picture), maybe not much.

I will definitely be going back though, perhaps next week.

I was looking for Soho Pride's rescheduled date (it was going to be tomorrow but was moved to 19 August) and found the Soho Pride Upcoming event. I clicked on 'I'm attending' and joined the list.

So far, we are going to be four. I'll bring the quiche.

Grace Dent makes me giggle. I wish I could say that the way she describes what goes on in the house is spot on, but having watched about thirty minutes altogether this year I just have to trust her.

That's how I learnt that Gerry has slept with between two and three thousand people. Crikey. On Monday Grace was wondering:

And what's with the array of medals that Gerry seems to be wearing attached to his little military jacket these days? The Royal Vauxhall Tavern Cross for Valour? Who knows.

And I spluttered the water I'd just swigged across the seats at the woman in front of me in the tube. I apologised, wiped the display on my phone, then thought: is this the same Royal Vauxhall Tavern I know, the one down the road from our flat, our local, where the drag act is un-PC and the men are sweaty and dance with their tops off? The pub where Dr B. and I met over four years ago (while sweating and dancing with our tops off)?

Either Grace Dent has an extensive knowledge of all things gay, or there is another Royal Vauxhall Tavern that is rooted into the public consciousness.