...Waitrose delivery van slot machine

...accidental cow on cow

...not doing medium, large or extra large jobs

...to be beside the seaside

...folk typography No.1: Shoe Repairs

...making an entrance

Functional sign nailed onto locked gates of building site entrance. See also gate pride.

...business cards good enough to eat

I'd been meaning to do this for aaaaaages and I finally got round to it - make some Moo MiniCards based upon one of my very favourite things; biscuits. You're no doubt rather familiar with Moo.com already, but if you didn't know, these particular bespoke business cards are long and thin, which make them (almost) perfect dimensions for a variety of biscuits (I had to retouch my photography for the perfect fit). Rounded corners would've been nice, but for under £20, I won't start complaining about die cutting.

They come in Bourbon Cream, Rich Tea Finger Cream, Pink Wafer, Scottish Shortbread and Milk Chocolate Finger varieties.

Oh I'm sorry. Here's my card.

...Now In Lemon

Excitement is like a wheelbarrow. It has one wheel and two handles.

No.

Excitement is like a stretcher. It has a paramedic either end.

No. Still not right.

Excitement is like a rip tide. You can get carried away in it.

Yes. Let's go with that.

With an excitement borne from the impending delivery of a new fanzine, I eagerly pledged to write a piece on it, a review if you will. Dead excited I was. Rubbing hands together excited. Now I sit here, on the bus, the fanzine under my arm, still very excited but also unsure of what to say or where to begin. Apart from this preamble, I mean, where do I start? At page one? Yes. That's a start. Page one.

So I've been sent the first edition of a new fanzine and straight out of the block it's wrongfooted me, all dressed in blue but called 'Now In Lemon'. Already I know we'll be pals. Like all good fanzines, it delivers what the fans want: lo-fi, free badge, served in an earthy brown envelope. It pushes all the right buttons in making NME fanboy nostalgia ping the corners of my eyes.

At this point, I should lay my cards on the table, just in case I want to make a future bid for BSkyB. Someone who sits not six feet away from me at work is one of two people behind the project. A talent. A fellow designer. A friend. Hence my alacrity, then apprehension, at fulfilling my own hurried brief of attempting a nonpartisan review.

Hello, and welcome back to part two of this Now In Lemon special review. Coming up: The goings-on of camo-clad Ross Kemp; meta ghosts; fur and mortality; crusifixations; and the number 23. But first we speak to Will Weaver about this snazzy new cottage industry paper, and ask What do you really think about this fanzine?

What do I really think? To be honest, I don't want to spoil anything. Part of Now In Lemon's charm is the surprise, so I can only impart my obfuscated opinion. What I can say is this...

The reader is taken from absurd to very funny to unnerving from the turn of each page. It's a project publication, so you get the makers' heart right there on the page, in ink which appears to be hanging on to the A5 sheet for dear life. A lovely honesty emerges, helped in part by Footprint, the co-op printer of this old-school analogue format sympathetic to the tone of the ideas and art. In turn, a certain fuzzy warmth encircles the whole zine which would otherwise be compromised filtered through the cold, harsh VGA display of an onscreen blog.

A well metered observation of the human soul via black ink and earnest paper stock, Now In Lemon is a brief visit which never outstays its welcome but rather, didn't stop long enough. Looking forward to issue 2 already.

Get it here: nowinlemon.com

...extreme sports

...a mystery

...the Segway butcher

...eating for two

...cultural baggage. Number 3: United Colors of Benetton

...MENSA bin puzzle

...360 minutes in Ghent

Display display

...forming an orderly queue

If nothing else, we are told, us Britons are the best queuers in the world. It's part of our DNA. The technology in our head is that of a homing pigeon. When our nature spots a queue, our nurture has to work double hard to not let us join it. Regardless of the fact we all seem to really appreciate standing in line, the Post Office - the bastion which practically invented queueing, has gone and laughed in our faces – its OWN face even – by reinventing the queue. I say reinvent, but if you enjoy waiting 10 minutes in an un-orderly fashion for something you've just purchased, then Argos got there a couple of decades earlier.

Not all Post Offices have this new system, but my local branch in Eastbourne does. If you haven't seen it yet, here's how it works:

• Upon entering, you're confronted with a touchscreen machine. Sometimes a friendly member of staff accompanies the machine.
• You choose between two options: counter services or bureau de change.
• You take a ticket with a number on it; your position in the queue.
• You take a seat and await your number being called out by a female computer voice.

So, you see, the system is very similar to Argos. However, the difference being at Argos it's really, really annoying, but at the Post Office, it's great. Why is this? Simple. At the post Office, the customer is awaiting a service which one can bail out on at any time. We're the master of the situation, and people just LOVE control. However, at Argos, you've already queued once and paid for the item you're waiting for; queueing is the part of the leg work which garners reward, so to make you wait any longer feels like a liberty. Control is taken from us and we wait, prone, for our little boxed item to get spat out of the chute for collection.

The beauty of the Post Office is they have recognised the shift in today's society, how our behaviour and habits have changed and, in turn, adapted the model of how the customer-facing side of a town centre Post Office functions. Where a traditional queue once worked when people were more accustomed to interacting with one another, bumping into a neighbour and passing the time chatting, the queue today is eerily silent. Time stands still as we stand there waiting with nothing to do. The queue is emphasised, its length a reminder of how long the guy is taking sending four eBay parcels at window number twelve. Silence. Frustration. Negative focus. What's more, you're locked in. It's dead time. Wasted time. If i were a horse and you a betting type of person, then the odds on me trotting on elsewhere and being left long in the face are, I don't know, 3-1 favourite. However the new system changes all this.

The Post Office now appears to be a little hive of activity. Once you take your ticket, there are comfy red seats, smartly positioned at 45 degree angles to break any notion of queueing. Whilst you're waiting, you can kill time and take advantage of the many other services the Post Office provides, look at gifts, packaging, greetings cards, buy a scratch card at a separate counter. You're not tied down and this has been recognised. Impulse purchases are a real possibility rather than an awkward situation waiting to happen. Where DVDs were once harboured within the queueing barrier at crotch level, they're free to be perused as you wait your turn to be served.

Another smart move is the 'Banking' section. An area dedicated to the Post Office's many finance related products – mortgages, loans, savings etc. – is now redesigned like a privacy room in a bank. It actually feels like they're taking your money seriously. Whether the average postage stamp-buyer consciously acknowledges this, the semiotics won't fall under their radar. We'll quickly forget how it used to be (with old Mr Trunky in line peering over your shoulder when you're trying to talk discreetly about your bottom line) and rightly so. It's a clever, welcome service in a time when everybody is looking after their money.

So, with queueing 2.0 in live beta mode,  I think the feedback will be good. My only reservation whilst in store was what would happen if you missed your place in the numerical line? I asked the nice lady at the counter about this and she said "We have to call the number three times, but we usually only need two. If nobody comes up, it's probably because they've left."

Maybe they went to Argos?

"If you missed your turn, you take another ticket".

Makes sense to me. Just like a good old fashioned queue.

...cup amnesty

...tagging this as 'Eastbourne Theatres'

At the Eastbourne Beer Festival a few weeks back, it came to kicking out time. As the revellers were slowly herded out like confused cattle on the way to the 'happy land', stewards deflty began removing ale-soaked tablecloths all around us. It was with some delight I noticed the municipal table tops had been tagged by the owners, which poses the question: who steals a table? Regardless of the answer, the tags are (presumably) unintentionally creative. I managed to snap a couple before we were ejected. You can see why I'm looking so forward to next years festival. I hope they're all that nice.

...melon hazard