Blasphemy is a tricky area. You should show respect for others' religious beliefs, but not pretend to share them, which would be a disrespectful lie. You have to be sensitive to their observances and, while not being expected to observe them yourself, should not disrespectfully flout them either. Into which debate drops a chocolate sculpture of a naked Christ, entitled My Sweet Lord and pictured on page 27, which is about to make its debut at a Manhattan art exhibition. I can't help feeling the local Christians who are unhappy about this are not playing their strongest card (which would be something along the lines of 'Do you mind?'). Instead, Bill Donahue, president of the Catholic League, said 'it was a classic case of non-believers attempting to sow seeds of doubt'. Anyone who has their doubt encouraged by this piece is surely not far from doubt to start with. I cannot see this 'classic case' making any thinking believer say, 'Hang on. Perhaps Jesus of Nazareth was not, as the church fathers have taught us, a true incarnation of God. Look, it's melting.'

It's not easy being England manager. Not easy, but fantastically well paid. Sven-Goran Eriksson, last I heard, is still getting some vast amount of money every day he doesn't find a new job (as long as he's actively seeking, presumably). Paul Jewell, who manages Wigan, says on page 1 of Sport that he 'wouldn't want the England job for all the tea in China.' Though, if he did agree to such a price, it would cost the FA less than their Eriksson deal. China-based tea barons now use the phrase, 'I wouldn't do that for all the money in Eriksson's contract.'

BT is the largest organisation in the world, bigger than NHS, the Chinese army, and the insect kingdom combined. It has many different parts, called things like BT OpenNet or BT WorldThing. Sandra Hewitt is trying to set up an office in her shed, and tells us on page 1 of Work how useless BT were in the effort. But at last there is a BT subsidiary with a realistic name: '[I had to make] two more calls to BT (aaargh).'

Christina McDermott, pictured on page 38, ran a live music club from her desk, didn't tell her employers, and got told off. She then changed jobs, did tell her employers she ran a music club, continued to run it from her desk, and got praised for 'good time management and organisational skills.' She is now the poster girl for moral relativism. It doesn't matter what you do, just don't get caught. And you can't get caught if you admit to it first.

There is no child who hasn't said, nor parent who hasn't heard, 'Are we nearly there yet?' It is the perfect, though failed, childhood attempt to be engaged but unburdensome. To the sayers, the 'nearly' seems a major concession to the adults: 'Look, Mum, if we're not actually there, I really don't mind – I'm pretty low maintenance. But I would welcome some kind of reassurance that we are at least nearly there.' But Nicola Haig and her brother, on the travels from their south coast home to their Scottish grandparents in the 1970s (detailed on page 7 of Family), were even more considerate. Their 'continual chorus' was 'When are we going to get there?' The very reasonableness of the question must have rankled the grown-ups even more. Now, in the era of SatNav, the question can be answered with military precision.

And, from our archive:

Guardian, 22nd January

A former Foreign Office minister has accused the police of heavy-handed tactics in arresting a No.10 aide in the cash for honours probe. He says on page 2 that they arrived at her door 'in a bid to make her crack'. I'd have thought a bright woman like that could make her own crack. And if the police ever arrive at my door offering to make me some crack, I'll scream entrapment.

A freighter is abandoned, listing, and leaking off the Devon coast. As well as leaking fuel, its containers are also spilling their goods. Some containers had 'car spares or new motorbikes', whereas others had 'potential menaces to marine life'. This seems a remarkably sanguine view of how well some car spares and new motorbikes will be going down amongst the marine population. Maybe your average squid is a keen speedway fan, and they have concealed it from us all this while.

This is one for corrections and clarification, really, but I can't resist it. Martin Wainwright on page 4 says that Jeremy Paxman asked Michael Howard 12 times if he had overruled the head of the prisons service over sacking a governor. No, he asked Mr Howard: 'Did you threaten to over-rule him?' I tend to remember things that are said to me twelve times. 'Did you over-rule him?' was the question that Mr Howard was trying to pretend that Paxo was asking, and thought he'd be able to get away with answering that one instead. He didn't. Twelve times.

A health story on page 5 mentions a drop in the number of women last year who 'had smear tests every week'. Good thing too. These women clearly have morbid fascination with their own cervical oncology, and they clearly need counselling, not further smearing.

A woman in South Carolina might have married James Brown – it's a legal grey area at the moment. Her lawyer comments on page 16 about her efforts to get some of the Brown inheritance. He says, 'You can't cut your wife out of your will in South Carolina.' I'm sure its excellent legal advice, but it would also make a rather fine title for a country and western song.

'British hotels attack budget airlines' is the headline on page 22, over a story about British hotel chains encouraging Brits to holiday at home and save the environment. The headline works well for the story, but it would also be the good subject for a Terry Gilliam animation.

Football managers change jobs very quickly. Page 4 of the Sport section represents a new record, however. Paragraph five starts with, 'West Ham's manager, Alan Curbishley.' Paragraph nine starts with, 'West Ham's manager, Glenn Roeder.'

A horse called Nickname is going to Cheltenham races in March, and may yet ride in the Queen Mother Champion Chase. But the headline on page 17 is misleading: 'Nickname on track for Queen Mother'. Any nickname for the Queen Mother is running very late. If you wait five years after someone's death before suggesting a nickname, it's very unlikely to catch on.

The Jake and Dinos Chapman retrospective at Tate Liverpool features soldiers massacring naked civilians and tipping their bodies into mass graves. But on page 28 of G2, Mark Ravenhill thinks the most disturbing thing is the 'number of toddlers' at the show. I know some people don't like other people's children, but that seems an extreme reaction.

The head of Channel 4 went on telly to defend Big Brother wearing a rubbish T-shirt. But when Emily Bell on page 4 of MediaGuardian refers to his 'awry T-shirt' my first reaction is 'Who's awry? Are they like fcuk?'