Blogjam reader Randy Cole writes:

I recently took a photo of a strange looking insect in a meadow in New Hampshire, USA. Maybe some kind of wasp? It has a very long abdomen with several projections. I haven’t had any luck finding a site that I can send the photo in for identification. I wonder if I can send in the photo and maybe you can post it. Who knows, maybe some burgeoning entomologist will recognize it and put an end to the mystery.

Randy, your wish is my command. If this works, I think I may start a regular insect identification service.

Personally, I imagine it’s some kind of Satanic harbinger of doom, an early warning sign that the apocalypse is surely upon us. That thing looks positively evil.

I received a text message this evening from someone I don’t know. This is always more amusing than a wrong-number call to your phone, because the sender isn’t aware they’ve made a mistake, and probably fumes about the lack of response. Here’s the message:

Havin a good time been ridin and swimin now in 50′s diner waitin 4 steak

Apart from responding by complaining about the lack of ‘g’s at the end of the suffix used to form present participles, I think I’ll react by telling ‘em I’ve been down the pub getting absolutely bladdered with my mates, and that horses are more stupid than guinea pigs, but without the personality. I’ll let you know how the conversation develops.

As regular readers will know, I’m a cat lover. I don’t have a feline companion of my own, however, living as I do in a flat with no real garden. I could get an indoors cat, of course, but I don’t think that’s fair – cats should spend their days scrambling up trees, chasing birds, and marking out territory by burying cat-dirt in the soil.

I do miss not having a moggy round the place, though, so you’ll understand the tremendous excitement felt at blogjam towers tonight when I tell you that I’m placing an order for a genuine robot cat from Japan. The process will take a while – a friend is ordering the cat from Toys R Us in Japan and having it delivered to her parents in Zushi, from where it’ll be shipped to the UK. I can’t wait.

Update: Everything was going so well, but then my Japanese friend discovered that the Nearme™ cat has one major flaw – it cannot walk. So that’s another fine plan down the drain, unless I can locate a spare $1500-$2000 to buy a Necoro which, let’s face it, is unlikely.

The excitement of having gmail invites to deliver to the World’s most needy nerds never really wears off.

Well, OK, it eventually does.

Still, I’m not going to stop yet, and I’ve got another four one five one six zero burning a hole in my desktop. You know the score by now – leave e-mail address plus first and second names in the comments section if you’re interested. Alternatively, those fine fellows at Too Louche may be able to sort you out. Tell ‘em I sent you.

I bought myself a lap-steel guitar from eBay, so that I can play Country & Western, Country Swing and Bluegrass. I have no idea how to play the bloody thing, and I’ve just realized that I also need an amplifier, lead and tuner if I’m to make any real progress. This is going to be an expensive hobby, but in a couple of years I think I’ll be fully immersed in the hillbilly lifestyle, having changed my name to Billy Bob, moved to the Appalacian Mountains, grown a mullet, started sleeping with my cousin Bessie Jean, and taken to wandering round with a hog under one arm and a flagon of moonshine uinder the other. Personally, I can’t wait.

Bollocks to this, I’m off back to London. Tremendous weekend in Cornwall, the main highlight being Bevstock, a mini festival organised to celebrate a friend’s fortieth birthday. Highlights included the delivery of 100 pasties, sharing Lithuanian moonshine with The Aphex Twin’s sister, delicious scrumpy (’tis Cornish) and a live performance from the county’s best bluegrass troupe, Kissin’ Cousins. I’m very pleased to report that no evidence remains of my moments onstage with the band, singing ‘Sylvia’s Mother’ by Dr Hook and (rather less embarrassingly) playing maracas on a never-ending version of ‘Will the Circle be Unbroken’. Lush.

Bollocks to this, I’m off to Cornwall. Today I’ll be attending ‘The Gig In The Park’ in Truro, an annual event organised by Zebedees, a local youth organisation. Last year’s event was just about the best thing ever.

On Saturday I will be mainly singing bluegrass.

Back on Monday.

The blogjam multimedia experience grows every day. From this day forth you can listen to my record collection, simply by clicking on the button below.

The service is provided by those clever web boffins at Last FM – if you’re not already a registered user you’ll need to sign up, but it’s a very quick process, no e-mail necessary and, as a result, you’ll be able to share in all the pretentious twaddle I listen to all day. Nice.

I’ve always wanted to use the line above as a post intro, but never really had the chance. Last night I saw the reformed MC5 perform, which is the perfect opportunity to do so. End of entry.

I’ve introduced two minor enhancements to blogjam today. The first is for those of you (Claudia in Turin, Italy) who’ve written into complain about the fresh new zesty lemon look. From today two further choices of jam are available, lime and cherry. I hope that at least one of those fine fruity selections is suitable for your browsing needs.

Update: I’ve added two more flavours of jam, strawberry and pork pie.

OK. I realize that pork pie is not a flavour of jam found in most supermarkets, but if it were, I’d be buying in bulk. So just let this one go.

The second new feature is a far more geeky affair, a section devoted to blogjam related statistics. These relate just to the weblog, not to the entire site, and apart from the usual bumpf (number of posts, number of comments etc), regular commenters can also track their own commenting history. Three things that immediately become apparent are the following:

• The award-winning™ Scaryduck needs to get out more. Apart from your host, he’s way out ahead in terms of contributions to the mighty blogjam cause.
• Top Northern chef Yorkshire Soul needs to decide whether he’s called Yorkshire Soul or Yorkshiresoul. The two are running neck-and-neck as I write.
• sierra dawn flietner really is 11 years old.

And there you have it.