Tonight I feel like my brain is desperately trying to break free of its shackles and head off into the ether, so I apologise in advance if today's entry is useless (and your excuse for the other days? — Ed.).

Listening to the New Order documentary at the moment. It's quite funny in places: "We made a fortune off the back of the Greatest Hits, and of course it was all swallowed by the Haçienda"; the attempts to get the English football team to rap (there's a reason why John Barnes is the only one of the team on the record), and how they slinked off to Ibiza to spend Factory Records' money.

"We thought: we'll just go to the club tonight, come back at twelve and work on the record. We'd come back twelve the next day..."

Bah. It's making me miss Manchester now. Even if the Haçienda was closed by the time I got there. Ah, we're now getting to the obligatory band breakdown bit.

"We still don't know to this day how many records we sold; Factory Records could never tell us."

At this point, I'd like recommend 24 Hour Party People again. It's a completely fictional retelling of Factory, but like all stories, it's all true.

Time for the happy reunion. I'm going to lie down. See you tomorrow...