It says something about me - and not necessarily something that's good, especially from the point of view of the Earthman Genome - that when left alone in a house with an Internet-connected computer I spend hours looking at porn.

Before we go any further, it's probably best to drop in a few qualifiers here. During these sessions, I type with both hands. Secondly, the material I favour can all be found on a single website: Wikipedia.

Now, to the casual thinker, my compulsion to surf, fascinated, between Wiki links is very different from sitting here slavering at mocked-up Britney nudes while conducting the solo symphony. But it isn't. It has all the hallmarks of a shameful addiction. Is it compulsive? Yes it is. Do I 'lose' hours of my time doing it? Yes I do. Does it affect my work? Sometimes. Do I think about it at inappropriate moments? I do. If a friend or family member walks into the room while I'm doing it, do I hastily close the browser window and pretend to be working? Most certainly.

I can't bring myself to seek treatment because no treatment is available and it's a habit I don't want to kick. Many addictions have their under-publicized upsides, as the wine connoisseur alcoholic will tell you. The upside of mine is that I'm fucking unstoppable in pub quizzes.

...And this. And him. Sometimes you come across something really amazing that you know is going to live in your brain forever.