It's not who you are underneath, it's what you do that defines you

And after the wonderful Rick Astley diagram from the other day, a quick glance through Graham Linehan's archives gives us this wonderfully childish Batman gag.

I sent the Brother a link to it at nine yesterday evening, seeing he was on Skype just as I was wrapping up another chat, and he replied moments later.

'Right as Batman Begins - see what I did there?'
'Oh very good. And yes. I think I shall come down now. I'm tired of checking stuff here.'

As indeed I was. For all that I was hopeful after the marathon meeting in mid-February, the last week has rather ground me down, as I've been ruining my eyes trying to check and correct the minutes. Seriously, checking them has involved working off a copy of the minutes on the screen, consulting e-mails I've sent over the last month, scrutinising the files from the meeting itself, sifting through the documents beside my feet, listening carefully time and time again to the recording of the meeting, and having long discussions with NMRBoy, who's not exactly been skimping on his end either.

I'd been catching up on Skype for the previous couple of hours while analysing the corrected version of the minutes, comparing it when the original and highlighting any areas where I'd amended the text. Sadly, about half the text is now a lurid red showing where I've corrected, adjusted, tweaked, or otherwise clarified the minutes I'd been sent for my approval. It's hard on the eyes, I have to say, so I was glad to leave it behind for a bit.

It was fun watching Batman Begins, not least because it's eerie how much Cillian Murphy's Scarecrow resembles NMRBoy. In truth, there's not a lot to dislike about the film. It looks great, has some nice dialogue, is exceptionally well-plotted barring one scene that could do with a little more justification, and features a balletic sword-fight on ice. Liam Neeson adds instant gravitas in his role as mentor to the apprentice Batman, Tom Wilkinson is sparkles as an improbably-cast mob boss, Gary Oldman breaks with tradition by not playing a freak, and Morgan Freeman somehow makes the whole thing marginally less implausible than normal.

I always tend to suspect that deep down, The Batman is an even more ludicrous concept than Superman. I know, nobody else believes me either, but bear with me for now. I'll expand on it one of these days. Trust me. It has theological implications, curiously enough. Oh yes, I've got your interest now, haven't I? No? Oh...

I'll leave that for another day, anyway. Instead I want to leave you pondering what an odd family the Cranes must be, with a retired policeman for a father and three psychiatrist sons: Frasier, Niles, and Jonathan. That last one really didn't turn out at all well, did he?