I stayed up till 4 AM on Wednesday morning to catch the live web-cast of the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix premiere in the UK.

This began at 2 AM AEST and the highlight, of course, was David “Tenth Doctor” Tennant arriving with that bird on his arm, what’s her name, Sophia Myles. You might remember her turns in the sheets with James Franco in Tristan + Isolde, a love story about a star-cross’d Irish princess and a dashing knight, and quite possibly another story Shakespeare plagiarised from.

It is rather good that she’s moved on from banging aging leading men of yesteryear like Charles Dance (apparently true, and frightening to boot) to the dishy Doctor. If you have to ask “Doctor Who?” I’ll flick you on the ear.

Also, I’m stealing the shoes Emma Watson wore, and if she won’t give them up quietly I’ll have to snatch Katie Leung’s.

… Wait a second, they were the same!

I don’t know what it is with Nintendo DS games at the moment, but I just can’t seem to purchase one that I actually enjoy playing. This really bothers me because EB Games [a video game, console and peripherals retailer] is having a monster sale (end of the financial year, tax time and all of that). Which brings me to my next point.

Now, ladies and gentlemen: here is a pet hatred (number 39 148, at the last Census of Sonya’s Myriad Hatreds) that can be nurtured, much as one nurtures a favourite pet. I can pick up this pet hatred and put it in my handbag and carry it around like a bloody celebridog (Tinkerbell Hilton, anyone?) I’m serious. I can nurture this pet hatred like I would look after a tiny living creature.

I hate it when the shops have huge sales… and I don’t end up buying anything.

Oh, it feels so good to get that off my chest!

I also carry around in my handbag another pet hatred - of vans driving in front of me and behind me on the roads. I’m a nervous driver by disposition, and when I can’t see what’s in front of you, dear van owners, I get edgy. I get a little upset.

Also, when you, in fact, are travelling at a slower speed than I am - and I’m rabidly commitmentphobic to the noble cause of the accelerator - that is really not good. If the speed limit is 50 kilometres an hour, that is what you should be doing, or at least close to it. If you are slower than me, something is very wrong.

And finally, those concerts to promote awareness of weird temperature shifts and Why You Should Be Really Concerned About This Sort of Thing:

I watched most of the Live Earth broadcast on cable television this weekend. I had a friend over and he was his usual mildly amusing-slash-mildly irritating self; we trash-talked most acts and praised a few others.

The thing is, by the end of the concerts, I still didn’t exactly understand what climate change is, and why I should be concerned about it.

I also came to appreciate the irony that a concert was being held to alert people to the existence of global warming and energy overconsumption. A concert, my friends, that used how much energy, Bueller?

I mean, come on - “Let’s draw attention to how we grossly over-consume energy by staging a REALLY BIG concert series and using a f**kload of energy! YES! That’ll get ‘em!”

Memo Al Gore: Loved the Pussycat Dolls’ performance, what was that band with a guy in a tartan dressing-gown who could have doubled for Cousin Itt in the Addams Family series performing in Japan, and dear God, man, who chooses your clothes?