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Protestors against the Iraq War have taken to moving copies of Tony Blair's insufferable and next to unreadable autobiography from the Politics, Current Affairs or Biography Sections to True Crime, Humour or wherever they is funniest. I have to say it's a really feeble protest.

There are forms of civil disobedience which allow the powerless to speak to power. This is not one of them. It doesn't affect Tony Blair at all. I doubt he has to ask Hatchard's where his book is. It barely affects the publishers. They might send their reps in to check that the book is prominently displayed but beyond that would be quite happy if a few copies 'got lost' and didn't get returned. The management of the big chains don't much care about your protests either. No, the only thing you're doing with your pathetic, pointless little act of resistance is annoying some poor bookseller who has to reshelve the book.

If you want to make an effective protest against the publication of this horrid, horrid book then write to the publishers or to the managers or owners of the bookshops and stop your childish little games. It's pathetic.

One of the side effects of not smoking is that I spend a lot of time in the gym. I have convinced myself that I will be less likely to start smoking again if I spend a lot of time running around, swimming and pushing weights. It's probably shoddy thinking. I'll only not smoke again if I don't have another cigarette. It's as simple as that. I'm a smoker like other people are alcoholics. There are no Twelve Step Programmes for smokers. I know that I'm only replacing one addiction with another but this one is much less likely to give me cancer.

I've lost half a stone since I started the Beginners' Running Club at the start of August. The trousers that I bought at the beginning of the year are now too large for me. I don't know whether I'm alone in not putting on weight after stopping smoking. I have more than compensated for the changes in my metabolic system by watching what I eat and taking lots more exercise. I feel more confident about my ability to run around the place now that I've been doing it for a few weeks.

I've noticed during my spells of public exercise that blokes come in all shapes and sizes. I know that's a daft thing to say but it hadn't really hit me before. You don't really think about other men's bodies, not when you're straight anyway unless they are really fat or exceptionally skinny. You see some poor bloke who is reduced to rolling around on a mobility scooter or the one whose Adam's apple seems to stick out of his pencil neck as far as his nose does from his face. Everybody other than them seems to be more or less the same. Judging from the state of the specimens in the locker room and pool however, I seem to be slimmer than most, a little shorter than most, with weedy little arms and a lot more hair. There are a number of mostly younger men who seem to be athletes in training but the rest of us are just trying not to die too quickly.

None of us look anything like the men on the covers of Men's Health or Men's Fitness. I used to get a glazed look on my face or harrumph when I heard feminists talk about body fascism, representations of women in the media and women's self-image. I understand more what they were on about now. I'm a forty-cough year old man. I'm never going to be an athlete or a sportsman of any kind. I have a diminishing paunch and the weedy little arms I mentioned earlier. I'm not broad-chested. My biceps don't bulge as much as my belly does. I've been looking at the two magazines mentioned above and not finding anything in either of them which remotely resembles me, my life, my body or my aspirations. I have the body of a Greek god. It's a small shame that god is Bacchus rather then Apollo but it's not too important. I'm bright enough to realise that, at least.

I worry about those of my brothers who aren't. Not my actual brothers. One is a former Army PT instructor, another has been working out since he was seventeen or so and the last is just too sensible. No, my figurative but stupid brothers who think they have to conform to the images that they see in magazines, pop videos and on advertising hoardings. I get annoyed by the ads for Just For Men hair dyes which suggest that a man with grey hair can't get laid or a new job. If you want to get laid, be nice to someone. If you want to get laid by the same person again, continue to be nice to them. If you want that job, do your interview prep properly and make sure you have relevant experience. It's not rocket science. Unless the job's at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, in which case it probably is rocket science. Oh, and a decent haircut is a better investment than some hair dye.

It's bad enough that cosmetic companies prey upon the insecurities of women. I don't want to see them do the same to the other half of the population just to increase the sales of their patent potions. And in case anyone thinks that's dismissive of women's insecurities, it's not. I'd rather that Laboratoires Garnier and their ilk ceased to exist altogether and we all went back to using Vosene. The scientists there could then go and get real jobs curing cancer or something. I don't like that insecurities are used to sell anything to anyone. It's a pernicious thing to do. It eats away at lives in the worst possible way, telling people that they are less than they are because they don't have This Wonderful Thing Which Will Complete Your Life. If only you looked like this, you too could be happy. Go on. You're worth it. Bollocks.

I wouldn't mind consumerism as much if we weren't treated like idiots. The acquisition of more stuff doesn't make our lives better. We don't feel better because we're slimmer, more muscly, less grey-haired or wrinkly. We feel better because of the relationships we have with one another and the peace of mind we have in ourselves. This post has strayed somewhat off the topic I had in mind when I started but what the hell.

It's been over two weeks since I had my last cigarette. The craving has gone. I don't know what do with myself now that I don't have that early morning urge to get out of the house for a smoke. I've found myself going for a wee instead. I don't have to leave the house for that. Overall, it's best that I don't leave the house for that. That's just messy. I get to stay indoors for a spot of micturation.

Too much information?

Sorry.

One of the side effects of nicotine withdrawal for me has been a diminution of the barriers between me and the outside world so I'm more likely to engage with it, offend its sensibilities, insult it and put it off me. Smokers live in our little nicotine bubbles. We mix only with other smokers round maloderous bins in the wind, rain and snow during the winter or under the unforgiving sun during summer. We forget what normal conversation is all about. So when we leave our tar-stained world behind, we tend to bring the stink of the ash tray with us.

I'd like to thank @HumphreyCushion for helping me through the last couple of weeks. She's been an absolute star. Thanks, petal. 

I'm trying to stop smoking. Again. It's not going well. I have wobbly legs and I don't know what to do with myself when I'm on long car journeys. I'm at that awkward stage where I'm not feeling any of the benefits of not smoking and at the same time feeling all the old cravings. It's bollocks.

I joked on Twitter the other night that fags provided the greatest love affair of my life. That got me some new followers. Hello, boys. It's not true. Sorry to disappoint you. You're all so sweet.

Anyway, while it's not true to say that cigarettes were my greatest love, they were my first adult love. I was a child until my first cigarette. After that, everything changed. You always remember the first time. For me, it was on a beach in St Andrews in late April or early May. There had been drinking. There was some fumbling and sand everywhere and to be honest that first kiss was a bit of a mess but we soon developed confidence in one another. Like all men, I want to think I'm in control of the relationship, but in the furring arteries of my heart I know that this is not the case. I lost myself to cigarettes a quarter of a century or so ago and they have had me ever since.

We've had our ups and downs. I have from time to time been able to resist sometimes for months at a time usually when I've started another relationship. In the end, I've gone behind my new love's back and fallen into the smoky embrace of the old. In truth, cigarettes are the lover from your past you most want to deny. She's an embarrassing mess. She makes you feel wonderful in the first few moments and then dirty for weeks or months afterwards. You crave her and despise yourself at the same time.

So now, fed up with the self-loathing, I've decided to try to leave the cigarettes behind again. I'm not sure I'll be able to cope with life without my stubby, smelly, disgusting little crutches but I'm going to try. Farewell, fags. Remember the good times, please and try to think well of me.

I was in the gym yesterday evening. It was a very nice workout, thanks for asking. I got nice and sweaty on the treadmill and pushed quite a lot of weight around. I completed my abs workout and then had a very pleasant time in the sauna and steam room. I was having my shower and overheard a couple of guys talking. They were arguing about a bike. One of them was going to meet a girl in Newnham later that evening and wanted to borrow the other's bike. He wasn't keen on making the loan so the first guy lost it. He ended up by saying that he was just going to steal a bike.

I'm fucking fed up with attitudes like that. The ungracious little twat couldn't see that borrowing his friend's bike would seriously inconvenience him in spite of his friend explaining why that was the case. Next, he thought that his own plans over-rode not only his friend's but that of a random stranger whose bike he was going to nick. That stranger might have been relying on the bike for transport to work the next day. He didn't think of that. All the moron was bothered about was going to see this girl. I hope she gives him herpes.

A few years ago, I lived in Hull. I bought myself a little Metro. It was local authority blue and bum-basic but I really liked it. One evening I went for a drink after work with a couple of colleagues. I'd parked in the pub car park but came out to an empty parking space after I'd had my lemonade and lime. Some fucker had stolen the car. I reported it to the police and to a very uncaring barman who really couldn't have given a flying fuck. "Car been stolen? Nothing to do with me." I got a call from the police later the same evening. They'd found the car in another pub car park. Some complete and utter arsehole wouldn't fork out the three or four quid for a taxi from one pub to another but would rather completely ruin a stranger's day by nicking their car. Arseholes and fuckwits. I despise them.

I know there are more good people than bad around but the bad ones make me so fucking furious. I'm fed up with them and fed up with being fed up with them. I'd really like to shove them all off somewhere where they can't inflict their thoughtless and casual criminality on the rest of us. Let's turn the Isle of Man into a penal colony.

This is just to test whether this Twitterfeed doobrie works. 

I woke up this morning and it turned out that the world hadn't ended. Dave and Nick did the deal and sold it to their Parliamentary parties. Nobody got anybody else drunk after the feast and slit anybody's throat. Not even slightly.

I was listening to The Today Programme on the way up to Bradford this morning and I was quite cheered by the sound of William Hague. I like him and I haven't the least idea why. Ideologically, he's venomous. I don't like his stand on Europe in particular but because he is such amusing company I'm prepared to put that on one side. I've blogged before about liking politicians for their comedy value and William Hague is the premier example of comedy politicians.

I had just about reconciled myself to supporting a government with David Cameron in charge when I heard that Theresa May had been appointed as Home Secretary and then the God-awful reality of the next five years hit me round the back of the head. Putting Theresa May in charge of the Home Office is like giving Cruella De Ville the keys to a puppy farm. She's not out on the lunatic fringe with Bill Cash but she is much, much more annoying.

I have a problem though. Do I dislike Theresa May not because she's a Tory but because she's a woman? Her attitude to things isn't that far removed from William Hague but I put up with him because I think he'd be a good bloke to go out for a pint with. We could have a robust exchange of views over a couple of pints and maybe a curry afterwards. I can't imagine that admittedly very unlikely scenario ever happening with Theresa May. Hague is a bloke so I can with reluctance give him a chance but because May is a woman, I can't contemplate  her in office at all?

I don't think of myself as in the least misogynistic. I believe absolutely in equality of opportunity in gender, race, religion, sexual orientation and everything else even if you're French or Welsh but apparently not if you're Theresa May.

Gordon Brown announced his resignation late this afternoon and dropped a spanner in the works of the Tories' coalition talks with the LibDems. I haven't stopped laughing since. I know it's hardly a fitting response to what the right wing press is undoubtedly going to call The End of Democracy and Gordon Brown Spitting In The Face Of The British People but I can't help it.

I would be laughing less if the likes of Adam Boulton were handling the situation better. The video of the good bit is here. There is nothing quite so amusing as watching someone lose it when really they shouldn't especially when it's live on air. Okay, Alistair Campbell can be a bit of a shitbag but I'm going to forgive him quite a lot for creating that. Thanks, Al. You've really cheered me up.

Now that Gordon has announced his intention to go, it has cleared the way for more substantive talks between the Labour party and the LibDems on forming an administration. The trouble is that Nick's people and Dave's people are still talking. Or at least they were. William Hague said that it was possible to create a workable agreement with the LibDems on most subjects. Gordon's resignation has even managed to get the Tories to offer a referendum on electoral form, the Holy Grail of the Liberal Democrats. I don't think there's much chance of any Conservative campaigning on behalf of electoral reform. It's a bit like telling a child you'll get them a puppy knowing all the while that you can't because Mummy has an allergy to dog hair. What's more, the child knows that Mummy has the allergy and gets Daddy to promise them a puppy anyway. There will be tears before bedtime.

It's likely that any government formed by a coalition of the LibDems and Labour would be constantly undermined by media which loathes everything they - the media in question - say they stand for. Get ready for all the usual nonsense about immigration, the deficit, crime, defence from the usual suspects. I can't wait. If you think the last 13 years have been hyperbolic, if the LibDems and Labour party pull off this one then you'll see them at their foam-at-the-mouth, rabid funniest.

There is also the slight problem that LibDems and Labour politicians don't get on. You have all the usual party political arguments compounded by personal rivalries which will not have arisen until now. A further problem is that the LibDems are the Millwall of local politics: nobody likes them. I have a friend who served on Hull City Council a few years ago. He was a Labour councillor. He had few problems with the Tory members of the council but lots with the LibDems. He said that they fought the dirtiest campaigns. I've heard similar things from other parts of the country but I have no personal evidence.

One of the criticisms which would be levelled at a Labour LibDem coalition is that it would lack a mandate. If you take the share of the national vote as your reference, then you'll see that Labour and the Liberal Democrats together got 52% of the vote to the Conservatives' 39%. I'd call that a mandate.

All this is idle and barely-informed speculation on my part. I have nothing better to do tonight. I still think that the Tories will get some kind of deal done with the LibDems which will allow David Cameron to command a majority in the Commons. If he blows it, his party will never forgive him. It would be the last chance the Tories have of ever forming a government. It would also give me something to laugh about for years and years to come.

Nigel Rees reported a piece of graffiti in one of his very many graffiti collections of the 1980s. It went more or less like this -

             Henry Kissinger should be bloody well hung

Underneath, in an attractive hand was written -

             He is, my dear. He is.
             Mrs Kissinger

It's an old joke. I'm not all that sure it's a good joke but I like to preserve these things.

I've been thinking about hung parliaments and coalition governments. I like it when politics is exciting and unpredictable and that's what you get in times like these. I'm sure that the City and markets aren't so keen but given the shit they've dropped us all in over the past couple of years, I don't give a toss about them.

The reason we have a hung Parliament and these indecisive and uncertain times is that no one party managed to convince enough of the electorate in enough of the country to give them a mandate. It's an infrequent by-product of the first past the post voting system. If you can persuade enough people in enough constituencies across the country to vote for your party, you can get a working majority in the House of Commons. Occasionally - very occasionally - that doesn't happen and no single party can command a majority.

I don't know what's going to come of the negotiations between the Tories and the LibDems over the weekend. I'd like to see Vince Cable in the Treasury, preferably as Chancellor but I don't think that the Tories would allow that. I heard some Tory donor on PM last night saying that perhaps LibDems could have minor ministerial positions in culture or sport but that anything else was completely unacceptable. He also wouldn't countenance any form of electoral reform and electoral reform has been a long-standing policy goal of the Liberal Democrats and the Liberals before them. The statesman-like thing for Nick Clegg to do would be to allow the Tories to form a government and get their Budget through but press them hard on every vote in the Chamber for policy concessions on key points of principle. He would then be free to work with whomever he chose on electoral reform now that the Labour leadership is so keen on it and not be tied to or identified with unpopular Conservative policies, particulary the swinging spending cuts that George Osborne is undoubtedly even now writing into his emergency Budget.

How's that - an entire post about a hung Parliament and not a single joke about stringing a politician up from the lamp posts in College Green? D'oh!

I admire boxers. They do things I just don't have the courage for and are often very strong individuals. Boxing is a mental sport. You need to believe that you will be the one standing at the end of the bout, or you'll be the one on the canvas. You also have to get into the ring knowing that you are going to take an absolute hiding even if you win. I just don't understand that kind of mental strength.

One of the greatest days in my life was when I met Muhammad Ali. Well, I didn't actually meet him. We were in the same room. He was in Edinburgh to promote a book of photographs by Howard Bingham. The All Blacks were in town to play Scotland at Murrayfield and wanted to meet him so he was surrounded by a couple of dozen huge New Zealanders, his team of assistants and a lot of publishing PRs and journalists. His presence is electrifying. He is such a beautiful man. I'm gibbering now. Imagine what I was like at the time.

I'm also a big fan of Frank Bruno. His character is as immense as his punch. I haven't watched any boxing matches since he retired from the ring. While I really like boxers, I don't really like boxing much any more. I need a character to admire enough to overcome my distaste for watching two men try to punch one another unconscious.

I was upset to hear that Frank was having problems with depression so I was delighted to hear him this morning on the Today programme. Here is a link to the interview. He was talking about his diagnosis with bipolar disorder. He said that he didn't know that he had a problem. He was calling people early in the morning and behaving strangely. He said "People were telling me I had a problem, but you're always the last one to know." One of the people he made these early morning phone calls to was Gary Richardson who was interviewing him this morning.

Frank is helping to publicise a campaign called Time to Change which aims to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health problems. You can't catch madness from someone who's mentally ill. People with mental illness are much more likely to harm themselves than others. Why then are people with mental illness stigmatised and marginalised when as often as not their illness is the mental equivalent of a dose of the flu? People with depression feel that they cannot admit as much to their employers for fear of losing their jobs. It's sad and lonely being sad and lonely. I hope the Time to Change campaign and Frank's example help, I really do.