Thunderbozz

A call for Inspecteur Sands was one of the first things I heard when I walked into the train station this morning. It's quite strange hearing it in French: at first it's quite funny, but then you quickly remember to look around you for the nearest exit. A day after the grand opening of St Pancras International station, it was my turn this morning to wait under the Barlow train-shed roof. The promise of arriving in a foreign city in just over two-and-a-quarter hours, combined with the magic of travelling by train and the awe-inspiring surroundings, was too much for me to resist. So here I am, writing after an incredibly pleasant journey through beautiful countryside, in, erm... Sheffield. Travelling by train beats the coach on practically every level: it's far less stressful, faster, more comfortable, more refined, with a higher class of traveller completing the journey with you. Over tables, complete strangers strike up conversations. Couples gaze out on the fields a

It's an idea that could potentially change the way football is run: round-up enough fans – 50,000, to be precise, each chipping in £35 – and when you've raised enough cash, take over a football club. A real, established football club. As a member of the ownership trust, each member then gets to vote on transfers, squad selections and the running of the club. It sounds like the perfect combination: fans get to inject their passion for the game into the running of the game, clubs get a boost in finances and attendances. It's like Championship Manager – but for real, and with added democracy. This morning, MyFootballClub, the website set up in April to change football forever by attempting such a scheme, announced that it had agreed a deal. Ebbsfleet United (formerly Gravesend & Northfleet), the Conference team just down the road, have sold 51% of their club to the MyFootballClub Trust for £70,000. The impact has been immediate and drastic: directors have all become n

Today, I was expecting to be sitting at my desk writing an essay. All week my fellow English students and I had been preparing for the 72-hour "take-home" examination, which is essentially an essay that gets set at 16:00 on Friday and is due in by 10:00 on the Monday. That was the plan, anyway... At around 17:20 on Thursday, a fire broke out in the basement of an electrical sub-station on Victoria Street. This knocked out the supply to the vast majority of university buildings on Western Bank and – crucially – to the computer network. With no-one able to access webmail, the English department had no means of telling everyone that the assessment paper would be inaccessible... until they recognised it was too late. Hence, we've all been granted a 7-day extension. As a result, everyone has been hastily re-arranging their plans for next week – which was reading week anyway – and (I'd wager) virtually no-one is panicking about their essay this weekend. Dartford FC update T

As a rule, I don't like Hallowe'en. But that's not a very sociable attitude, and one that's earned me few plaudits when I refused to get involved in previous years. I was, therefore, slightly disappointed that no-one had suggested going out this year... that is, until Tuesday's suggestion that we head for Corporation's School Ghoul Disco. As you can see from the picture, I even dressed up and everything. In completely unrelated news, I've fallen in love. With Debbie Harry. But not Debby Harry as she is now, because frankly I'm a bit too young for her, only the young Debbie Harry. The reason for this is finding a copy of Blondie's Greatest Hits in Hoomv for £5, and my golly it's one fine selection of tunes. From the lyrically-sparse Atomic to "Denis, Denis" and right up to their 'new' stuff like the brilliantly catchy Good Boys : top class. Also, since I saw you last... Watched extended snippets from some dodgy B-mov