And we'll very possibly talk about it again. I'm politically aware, socially conscious, spiritually attuned . . . and completely obsessed with finding the perfect cupcake.

I know it's out there somewhere.

The art of the cupcake is something that can't necessarily be translated into cold, hard copy . . . it's a highly sensual thing, an intimate interaction between pasty Irishman and tasty, tasty treat. It's a relationship that began, somewhat tentatively, during the early days in NYC, when, while ticking off those basic 'things-to-do' boxes, we landed at the legendary Magnolia Bakery on Bleecker Street, as featured in choice episodes of Sex And The City.

Sex and cupcakes tend to go hand in hand, or hand to mouth, orf Well, you get the idea.

One bite of a Magnolia cupcake . . . three inches wide and top heavy from buttercream frosting, on a base of golden sponge or chocolate cake . . . and that's itf Chances are, you're hooked.

Every day of the week, they're queuing around the block at Magnolia. The city's cupcake wars have been in full swing for the past few years, as a host of new contenders attempted to steal Magnolia's crown: The Buttercup Bake Shop on West 72nd; Sweet Sugar Sunshine on Rivington; Babycakes on Broome Streetf All sampled. All recommended.

You start to take walks through certain neighbourhoods, secure in the knowledge there's a cupcake waiting at the end of it, every store offering their own delightful variations upon an ever-expandable themef It's a veritable artform. People go crazy for cupcakes.

Within the ever-expanding blogging community, there are a hardcore (and boy, do we mean hardcore) cupcake fanatics; check out Cupcakes Take The Cake, a popular blog edited by Village Voice sex columnist Rachel Kramer Bussel, offering page after page and picture after picture of what is best described as cupcake porn.

Don't knock it until you've tried it, either.

Man, if I get out of this country weighing less than 300lb, it'll be a bleedin' miracle.

Pilloried to Post WE'RE really enjoying the current scandal involving New York's favourite salacious gossip column, the New York Post's infamous Page Six.

Billionaire businessman Ron Burkle wasn't too happy about some of the muck being thrown his way on Page Six; flamboyant P6 doyen Jared Paul Stern (right) then promised he could stop the slander . . .

upon delivery of, naturally.

Unfortunately, Burkle's security staff got it all on video tape, which the Post's bitter rival, the Daily News, has been serialising daily.

Now Stern has been suspended, pending an FBI investigation, and word is beginning to leak out concerning other big swingers who paid to keep their dirty laundry out of the Post. Trust us, this one's going to run and runf Unfinished monkey business FOR the first night of their five-night stand at Harlem's legendary Apollo Theatre, a technical fault meant that Damon Albarn's Gorillaz were missing their giant video screens . . . leaving the Gorillaz minus, well, the Gorillaz themselves.

The critics showed them no mercy, but by night number three (the one we caught) Damon & Co were on top of their game, wheeling out a cavalcade of guest turns, from De La Soul and the Harlem Gospel Choir to Ike Turner, Shaun Ryder and Dennis Hopper (along with lifesize puppet replicas of Murdoc & Co, occupying a box to the right of the stage). The Demon Days album was brought to life in three-dimensional sonic technicolor, and suddenly, Blur feels like the side projectf This week we're loving. . .

FISHSCALE, the new record from Wu Tang Clan's Ghostface Killah, and the nastiest, most inspired oldschool rap record we've heard in some timef Chasing A Ghost, photographer Nan Goldin's latest exhibition in Chelsea, inspired by the suicide of her older sister. Very affecting. . . Williamsburg's Galapagos venue, which plays host to strange and wonderful art happenings seven nights a week, from experimental film to amateur burlesque to . . . our personal favourite . . . a live adaptation of camp action movie classic Point Break.

It's never boring, folks. . .