Those of you who saw our show at this year's Melbourne International Comedy Festival might be interested to see that the American army 'deserters' who attempted to seek asylum in Canada because they believed the Iraq War was illegal have been turned away. Read this.

Looks like it's time for a rewrite - either by Canada or by me. You go first Canada. No, you go. No, no, I insist.

Have a nice weekend.

I have worked as a script editor before on a few things unofficially and a few things officially (including the upcoming ABC TV show The Librarians, which is running some very exciting looking promos at the moment by the way, and you should all watch it).

Being a script editor is so much fun because you can work objectively and then leave. You can see the problems, suggest possible new directions, scrap things you don't like, and then walk away from the rubble you have created while someone else does the work.

At least, that's how it felt from the perspective of BEING a script editor.

Now, for our children's TV script we're writing, we are working with our own script editor and I have realised something. A script editors is, quite simply, the best thing since sliced bread. Or indeed bread of any kind. The best thing since yeast.

You know that game where you have to say which permanent member of staff you would employ if you could - you know, most people say masseur or chef or butler or whatever?

Script editor. For sure. Not even a contest. Not even if the chef was Jamie Oliver and the masseur was Johnny Depp.

I'm sorry Johnny, that was a lovely audition, it really was, but you see I can only employ one staff member so I'm afraid you'll have to go. Do take one of Jamie's crab bisques on your way out won't you.

Poor Johnny. He never had a chance.

I guess I brought it on myself, writing a play in which Paris Hilton is an intellectually rigorous thinker obsessed with the big ethical questions and the larger political inequities of international capitalism. Thank you to everyone who has pointed out this article, wherein Paris heads inevitably towards the Paris I dreamed of all those months ago.

Somehow, it seems different when she does it in real life. Possibly because she has not yet used to word "poststructural".

In other news, tomorrow I have to buy myself a new laptop, to replace my broken one: a task I cannot afford and do not have the expertise to carry out alone. This is where my bevvy of nerds comes in handy. I have a herd of nerds. A nerd herd. They are as follows:

1. Stewart, who is currently suffering from a baby disease known as "croup", which, according to Wikipedia, involves a "barking cough" or a "seal-like bark". My sister, who is of a more literary bent, described the cough as "positively Dickensian", which is also true, although he has ignored my suggestions that he lean over a steaming hot tub of water and inhale the steam by candlelight and possibly with the assistance of a strange old man who turns out to be his benefactor.

It must be noted that I, too, suffered from a baby disease at one point (that being slap-face) and that I both sympathise and reserve to right to make outrageously insensitive jokes, on account of having "been there". Much like those who went to 'Nam.

2. Nerd #2 is my old Friend Ablain, who is the reason I passed "Info Tech" in High School, and who gets text messages like "how big is a hundred meg?" when Stewart is at the movies.

3. The sub-nerds. A bloke at my work. A friend called NAME REPLACED FOR LEGAL REASONS who is very handy for REASONS REPLACED FOR LEGAL REASONS. Others, seas of them, you know who you are.

But the problem with nerds is: they never agree. They are knowledgeable and hence obsessive and loyal to their favourite products/shops/software. If you say, "Mac or PC?" in a room full of nerds, you should probably equip yourself with some fairly sturdy weaponry more or less immediately (nerds are usually ninjas).

So tommorrow I expect I will take Stew along, or else keep him on speed dial so he can yelp his seal-like bark into the ear of the supplier who will no doubt see us both coming and wheel out the most expensive thing anyone has ever heard of, and assure Stew (who will assure me) that I would be insane to go for anything less than this futuristic spacecraft, with these add-ons and this extra three year expensive warrantee, which will lapse three days before the thing break downs for good.

Then, of course, I will require "time to think about it" and will ask the rest of the Nerd Herd, who will give me twenty-seven conflicting and equally frightening hypothetical problems with my original position, which will result in a nerd stand-off reminiscent of the "Final Cut Pro" wars of 2006 (don't get me started).

And some people just go to the shops and come back with a laptop.

So after a week of reporting NO NEWS WHATSOEVER in this, the official Standing There Productions Diary, I hereby produce a trump card, the likes of which I don't come across too often.

Over the past week, we have received (a) good news and (b) bad news. Receiving any news whatsoever is usually a bit of a coup, but two things at once is extraordinary.

First, the good:

Last Wednesday, Standing There Productions was notified that our kid's TV proposal has received development funding from the Australian Children's Television Foundation, which anyone who grew up in Australia will know as "the little smiley face that comes up at the end of the Australian shows".

Development funding means "funding to write the idea into a script", so don't expect to see our name on the credits of anything in the immediate future, if ever. We're being helped to write a draft of a first episode - known in the biz as a "baby step". We're very excited about it, because we get to work with people who have done this before, including a real life grown-up script editor. It might also make the juggling act between paid work and creative sessions in the library a little easier to handle.

HOWEVER.

The bad news:

I dropped my laptop.

Dropped it. Spectacularly. I have been intending to go in and find out the extent of the damage at the mac place. I almost made it there yesterday but I can't quite face it. I feel like a neglectful mother who dropped her child on its head.

So. The good news is that we have support to write stuff. The bad news is we have nothing to write it on.

Also, if anyone watched Kath and Kim this last Sunday (the 9th), five points for anyone who noticed the Standing There Productions prop.

Anyone?

Thanks to the more trashy amongst you for bringing this to our attention.

It appears that Paris Hilton, who (in a baffling career move) never wrote back to our letter requesting that she take part in our comedy festival show, has nevertheless decided to run with our Paris Hilton Warhol Theme as her wardrobe (calm down, you can buy them here).

I know I, personally, am looking forward to wearing my own Andy Warhol image on an oversized T shirt coming soon to a store near me.

Now, moving on in the agenda, I've been going to lots of events lately, as part of various festivals, and I've learned how important it is to get the right person to run a session, or to introduce an artist.

Here are some standard no-go areas, in terms of introductions (all lifted from real life disasters):

"Before we start, let me just tell a joke." (This line could form the central defence in a murder case, particularly in literary festivals and particularly when the joke is about men looking at women's knockers, or having insufficiently large wangs).

"If the speakers could keep their readings short, that would be great because we have a lot to get through. Now, if you will indulge me (coy look of false modesty), I will now read from my new book, available for sale in the foyer (coy look masking sickening desparation). It's called THE LONGEST, MOST TURGID STORY IN THE UNIVERSE. I will read the first nine chapters. (Noisily adjusts microphone). I will be accompanied by Tamara on the lute." (This almost always from a person whose name does not appear on the ticket).

"This next speaker, I don't actually know anything about him or his work, and in fact I only met him in the foyer about twenty minutes ago. Please make him welcome... It's (reads from programme) Wiliam Shakespeare", Charles Mason, Elvis or similar.

But my favourite introduction so far in all my years of watching people be introduced by festivals is this one (usually employed at comedy festivals):

"Please welcome him on stage tonight for the first time in Melbourne. It's the very talented [INSERT NAME HERE]". This delivered by INSERT NAME HERE himself, who is doing an American accent into a microphone behind a curtain backstage, Wizard of Oz style. In fact, this is such an old trick now that I'm never sure these days who's doing what.

So, I don't know if anyone's interested but I am thinking of holding my own festival next year in my laundry. The laundry is as big as a broom closet and it leaks from what we suspect is the upstairs toilet, but I figure if four or five of us turn up and read from the phone book, we could definitely get arts funding.

You in?

Hey so check it out.

Seeking asylum in Canada, huh?

Everyone is stealing my ideas - and for those of you who didn't see For We Are Young And Free, just take it from me that we were shockingly prescient and very clever. And we probably need to go international with this. A Tony might be nice.

Several matters I have been remiss in mentioning, and thanks to everyone who has been keeping me updated on Paris Hilton's decision recently to stop pretending she's dumb. And no, I don't think she did see our show in the comedy festival, although obviously her talent agency has.

Second item on the agenda is not unrelated to the above. In the High Court of Australia at the moment, one of my favourite judges (from a nerdier time, when I followed such things) is hearing a (potentially very important) case about whether or not it is discriminatory that people in jail are not allowed to vote (especially with a view to the percentage of indigenous people incarcerated in our jails). So, with that possibly very inaccurate and wildly generalised description of the case, let's hear what it has to do with Paris Hilton:

KIRBY J: I thought recently there was a case in the Australian Capital Territory where somebody was convicted of a statutory offence of treason, but anyway, it is not very common in this country.

MR MERKEL: That may be right - if that was, I understand it might be the first time if it falls into that definition, but that is our response to that subsection. I was going to say under section 93(8AA) the amending legislation defines "sentence of imprisonment". That is at page 7. This was also a significant amendment because prior to this amendment there was a question about whether home detention or parole would be caught by the disqualification. So this amendment made it clear that you had to be in detention on a full-time basis. So that is in the extrinsic materials. So there was no question if someone on parole or on home detention would not be caught by the disqualification and that comes out as a result of that definition.

Can I take your Honours next to Part VIII of the Act starting at page 122 dealing with - - -

KIRBY J: So Paris Hilton would now be disqualified, but last week for a short time she would have been entitled to vote?

MR MERKEL: Yes, your Honour, and she would have been entitled if she were in Australia and an Australian citizen to be standing here unburdened by the five-year point at least.

KIRBY J: I just wanted you to know that I follow these things.

... Justice Kirby, keeping up with the peeps on the streets...

And the final item on the agenda is that I saw a young man today walking down the street reading a book and carrying a case containing an instrument, possibly a saxaphone, and walking a dog. My previous boastings about being able to simply read while walking down the street have now been cast into a rather humiliating shadow.