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It was never quite clear to Eleanor why the English thought it was distinguished to have done nothing for a long time in the same place, but David left her in no doubt that they did. He also descended from Charles II through a prostitute.

Absolutt aldri multitask - multitasking er å redusere hjernekapasiteten din samtidig som du aukar stressnivået.

Prokrastinering er truleg den mest utstrekte, og mest fortvilande, forma for sjølvdisiplinsvikt. Alle menneske prokrastinerer (bortsett frå kanskje slike som Hadia Tajik, som tar tre mastergradar og lærer kinesisk mens dei er statsråd), men i sterkt varierande grad.

I dag er det heilt feil folk som har sjølvkontroll. Ein av Noregs fremste sjølvdisiplinistar heiter til dømes Fotballfrue. Mens forskarkarrierane til dei lysaste hovuda i landet går til grunne i twitterdiskusjonar, har Fotballfrue ikkje rørt kveitemjøl eller sukker på eit tiår. Me kunne gitt henne ein leikedokterkoffert, og ho ville ha løyst kreftgåta innan halvtanna år.

What's more, the record collections of the revolutionaries don't stand up to scrutiny. When investigators came to clear out Andreas Baader's prison cell, they found no LPs by Kraftwerk, Can, Neu!, Ash Ra Tempel or Cluster. They did, however, find on his record player an abum by Eric Clapton, his nondescript 1975 blues-rock effort There's One in Every Crowd. If Baader was evil, then, pace Hannah Arendt, here was a banal detail.

There are of course at least two such chasms, one between the postmodernist investigator and the informant, and the other between the writer and his audience. Facing each of these chasms, our postmodernist will prove his trans-positivist sophistication and sensitivity by being overwhelmed by both of them, and displaying his real depth, his awareness of the hermeneutic problem, by demonstratively failing to cross either, dissolving into chaos, impenetrable prose, and speaking in tongues. Strictly speaking, the rest should (logically) be silence.

If you were forced to name your favourite group of all time, then the Beatles would be a hard one to argue with, but so would the KLF. Their catalogue is patchy, deeply flawed, and they never made a consistently strong album. But they showered the crowd at an Oxfordshire rave with £1,000-worth of Scottish pound notes bearing the legend 'Children we love you'. They played at the 1992 Brit Awards with vegan punks Extreme Noise Terror, before picking up guns and firing blanks at the audience. They were independent, euphoric, iconoclastic, and they were enormously successful in 1991.

Some may see more worth in the catalogues of the Doors or the Grateful Dead, but the Turtles encompassed the American sixties - hip, square and freak - and they split, on cue, in 1969 with a baroque ballad called "Lady-O", written by their one-time groupie Judee Sill. In their own grown-up fanboy way, they were as perfect as the Beatles. Their photos just needed a little more touching up.

Gene Pitney wrote upbeat hits for others - Bobby Vee's "Rubber Ball" (UK no. 4, US no. 6 '61), Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou" (UK no. 2, US no. 9 '61), the Crystals' "He's a Rebel" (UK no. 19, US no. 1 '62) - but picked other writers' songs for himself that tended to see his composure gradually crumble inside three minutes, whether through love's intensity ("Twenty-four Hours from Tulsa", UK no. 2, US no. 17 '63) or through despair ("I'm Gonna Be Strong", UK no. 2, US no. 9 '64); most extreme of all was 1968's "Billy You're My Friend", a traumatic love triangle that sounded like it was being sung with Gene inside a straitjacket.

Melody Maker, the jazz weekly, hated Colyer's band. He was a purist, a grouchy extremist who thought Louis Armstrong had sold out when he brought a saxophone into his band. His conservatism accidentally beat a new path. What he did with skiffle was to revive a music that was so old it seemed radically new; in this way, he is a forefather to Morrissey - who took the early-sixties, pre-Beatles pop culture to shape the Smiths' image and lyrics - and the indie revolution. What seemed like exotic distance to Ken Colyer seemed very real to people still living in two-up two-downs, in ramshackle Victorian structures with galley kitchens and outdoor toilets. The washboard, the mop, the bucket - these were everyday items in working-class fifties Britain. Transforming them into musical instruments with a few nails and a few screws caught the imagination of kids like a home-made Meccano set.

MIG JEG ER KAFIR MIG JEG ER MUNAFIQ
MIG JEG ER HUND
MIG JEG ER BESKIDT MIN SJÆL ER FATTIG
OG OVENPÅ UGERNINGEN JEG DØSER HEN I FORÅRSSOLEN

MIN LØN VAR NATTENS RETURKASSER
NOGLE NÆTTER VAR DER FIRE ELLER FEM
MEN DENNE NAT VAR DER KUN EN
JEG SPRÆTTEDE DEN OP TIDLIGT OM MORGENEN
UBRUGELIGE KRIMIER OG EN KNAUSGÅRD

SECRETS ARE LIES
SHARING IS CARING
PRIVACY IS THEFT

In Birmingham, Alabama, I rush myself to a dentist for the first time in 20 years. I insist upon codeine mixed with heroin and gin in order to settle my nerves, but this simple request is denied.

[...] Sarah Ferguson remains lodged in the US talk show mind as a British 'royal' boil, or at least as someone who has had the honor of hearing the Queen belch after a rousing luncheon of peppered horse.

By now, Marr, Rourke and Joyce have magically transformed into the Beverley Sisters, each chanting how that awful Morrissey had destroyed their lives - and just when they were all doing so well with their musical careers.