Editor-At-Large: Just blog off. And take your self-promotion and cat flap with you

Blogs are surely the musings of the socially inept, those people you sidle away from at parties after a couple of stabs at conversation. They are the product of the internet that has given a "voice" to millions of people who have nothing to say apart from the fact that their pet has just exited via the cat flap and the baby has soiled another nappy. Thousands of hackneyed opinions about books on Amazon written by people who can't use a three syllable word. Endless reviews of films tapped out by couch potatoes who've never experienced any culture other than the one within their suburban front room.

When blogs come from war zones or societies where freedom of speech is at a premium, I accept they have a real news value. But 99 per cent of blogs just soak up your valuable time without giving anything meaningful back in return. They are about as interesting as watching cheese develop mould or Gordon Brown crack a joke. The whole medium is being undervalued further as businessmen and politicians discover blogs as a means of self-promotion and a chance to reach a younger, hipper generation. Be honest, are David Miliband or David Cameron ever really going to reveal anything worthwhile about their political philosophies in their feeble blogs?

And now on Waitrose.com, managing director Mark Price, has decided we are waiting with bated breath for the first instalments of his efforts to lose weight, entitled notsochubby. Mr Price is 1.5 stone overweight, smokes cigars and doesn't like exercise. He plans to write a daily diary of his eating habits, as well as revealing interesting details of his dining companions. Sadly, the first three entries of this seminal work are unlikely to challenge Ian McEwan for this year's Booker prize as they include a review of a Chinese restaurant in the super-wealthy village of Pangbourne, in Berkshire, and the breathless admission that Mr Chubby starts his day with Waitrose microwaveable Hot Oats.

In between the gin and tonics, he mentions in passing that his daughter Holly was photographed by a professional photographer and had her nails and hair done for her 13th birthday, as well as mounting a robust defence for importing tilapia fish from Zimbabwe. I can hardly wait for another entry setting out the environmental justification for sending Scottish prawns on a 17,000-mile journey around the world and back in order to lose their shells before they grace our tables. Although not an exclusive Waitrose product, the shellfish in question is stocked by Mr Price's company.

I am sure that Mr Price is a likeable fellow, but the head of PR at Waitrose must already be under fire for suggesting this blog in the first place, as it has hardly set the internet on fire. Since it kicked off on 2 January, it has received 17 comments on day one, 11 on day two and a measly one by 5.30pm on day three hardly an overwhelming show of support from the shop's millions of customers. I fully expect loyal employees will soon be ordered to log on to make the whole exercise seem more worthwhile and to bolster their boss's ego. In the meantime, might I suggest that Mr Price includes fewer mentions of his own products and all the lavish accoutrements of the salaried classes.

Even more time-wasting than Mr Chubby Chops's blog are networking sites such as Bebo and Facebook, in particular those entries where people boast of a huge number of friends although you and I know that any cyber-pals you've acquired are not nearly as useful as the three-dimensional variety when your partner's vanished or you've lost your job and need a shoulder to cry on.

Michael Nyman, the divorced composer, has just found out the real cost of social networking in the most embarrassing fashion. A woman who contacted him via his Facebook entry met up with the 63-year-old and a romantic fling ensued. The episode, complete with embarrassing details (including the information that he needs to deal with the hair in his ears) has appeared as a blog on the internet under the pseudonym of Lucia Keenan. She describes him as being "as short as Ronnie Corbett" and reveals details about their love-making which Mr Nyman would probably have preferred not to have been electronically disseminated among the e-community. My motto for 2008 blog off!

To have your say on this or any other issue visit www.independent.co.uk/IoSblogs

Your divorce has a silver lining, Ms Sanderson

Jane Medley, who is divorcing her husband Neil, returned one night to their 750,000 house in Ilkley, North Yorkshire, to find that one shoe from every pair she owned had disappeared, along with her underwear and her handbags.

After an incinerator outside the family home was found to contain metal bra fastenings and bits of clothing, her husband was convicted on three charges of criminal damage. During his appeal hearing last week, Mrs Medley, who now uses her maiden name of Sanderson, told the court more than 5,000 worth of clothes had vanished, allegedly destroyed by her husband.

It can't be fun to discover that your carefully co-ordinated wardrobe has gone, but I can't think of a better way to start 2008. We all own 500 per cent more stuff than we need: clothing that fills up cupboards and makes you feel awful when you can't get it over your expanding backside. Hopefully this will be the year when conspicuous consumption is no longer seen to be chic and Ms Sanderson has the chance to lead the trend.

He's not afraid to lead from the front (room)

What do you think are the qualifications to occupy the crisis-ridden post as chair of Network Rail? A degree in customer relations? Years of experience in the transport industry? Or an ability to be able to brew a cup of tea for a reporter from the Daily Mail while your customers are queueing for coaches because trains aren't running?

I always thought the prime consideration for chairing a publicly accountable body was the ability to be seen to be on the front line when things went wrong. The newly ennobled Ian McAllister obviously carries a different idea of his job description. He told a journalist he'd "only get in the way" if he went into the office during the chaos that ensued when engineering work overran last week, causing thousands of passengers to endure miserable journeys back to work after the New Year break. And where was the soon-to-be Sir Ian? Relaxing on an extended holiday, at his 1.5m farmhouse, basking in the warmth from his new knighthood, dished out for (don't collapse laughing) "services to transport" in the New Year Honours List.

The very least this fuckwit could have done was turn up at Euston station and hand out mince pies, free cups of tea and condolences. Sometimes you have to be the person who leads your team by example. All Mr McAllister's appointment proves is that mediocrity always floats to the top as exemplified by Transport Secretary Ruth Kelly, who was also nowhere to be seen. According to aides she was "monitoring" the situation. On her salary, that should have meant showing up in person.

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