I should be out tonight in London's fashionable Shoreditch watching former Ride frontman - and shoegazing god - Mark Gardener playing an acoustic set. But I am so very, very tired that I, instead, gave telly a go.

Firstly, the World Championship snooker, which I love. Never, ever underestimate the draw of two pallid, sickly-looking men playing a pub game in front of a thousand men in Hackett t-shirts. Sporting class.

Next was Ray Mear's Bushcraft, in which our chubby hero, while on a canoe journey through some Canadian wilderness, fashioned a paddle from a piece of wood his friend had found, utilising an axe, bandsaw and plane he carried with him. He extolled the virtues of carrying well-maintained tools, telling us that he couldn't express how much easier such a job was made by using the right ones. Then he ate a pancake with a big wooden spoon.

I followed this with the excellent Super Size Me which, if you haven't seen, you really ought to. It's a bit like Jamie's School Dinners with less swearing, but with more self-inflicted heart disease, liver problems, type 2 diabetes, depression and vomiting. Super Size Me feels like a wake-up call for our decadent, greedy and grossly stupid culture but, I fear, those wake-up calls are going to have to keep on coming. It's like we have snooze button on common sense.

Not a bad evening, but I suspect the Sonic Cathedral indie-shoegaze night I missed out on offered a whole lot more and I wished I hadn't been too (utterly, completely fucking) knackered to go. In fact, one person reading this knows just how much. Hello you.

Bed.