It's currently 10pm on Monday, October 19th, and 6,647 guests have signed in.

Mil says: Behold my Guestbook. You may write your entry using the 'bit' at the top of page. You may read the entries of others by looking further down the page. The whole thing is based on literacy, really.

Public service announcement. If you don't check the FAQ before adding your entry you'll just make yourself look even more stupid in front of us all - this is your only warning.

Another public service announcement. I do not censor guestbook comments. However, I do remove spam advertising, probably because I'm a godless, pinko, gay-enabling liberal or something. Spammers have been writing special scripts to splatter this guestbook with their tiresome cant: the small test below aims to stop this by determining whether you're a human being or not (something you may have been wondering about anyway). Think of it like those dogs that sniff incoming hands to spot terminators.

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Your name Your e-mail (Won't be shown) Your homepage title Your homepage URL Your location How did you find the page? Search engine E-mail from friend E-mail from idiot partner Web page Newspaper, magazine, etc Coincidence Magic Hot tip from a stranger in a bar I'm going through the whole Internet alphabetically Barry Your comments   Tick to hide your comments in secrecy    Unimpress-o-Matic Anti-Spam Bit Read the following passage and use your skill and judgment to answer the question.    / As Mil braves 8 (or was it twenty-nine? Yes) birkenstocks, he acutely recognises how Margret lobs with catastrophic range and the way simple things ("You mean you complimented my haircut? Those are two or three of the last straws") seem inevitably to improve a slight debate on the subject of crisps into a slight war. It had seemed quite a run of the mill Tuesday as well; Mil phones Margret from the gasworks and they swerve to the corner shop at no more than 9 - not even worth a shrug. And now here he is with a blistered eyebrow. Pfff. Hurdy ho, if nothing else he has 29 laptops to his name, also a nagging feeling the front door keys are in the loft. What was the original cause of the argument?

Mil's Guestbook by Excellent Guestbooks Ltd, purveyors of things to The Weekly.