Joan of arc-h rival

I'm jealous, and I'm not afraid of admitting it.

This 100-book challenge may have started out as a bit of fun - and remains so, in many ways - but I have to admit the Friend of the Wench is beating me on all fronts.

Not only is he ahead of me in terms of the number of books read, he recently received the gratification of an author he had read - the author of the very first book he tackled this year, in fact - contacting him via his blog to express her thanks.

What's more, Joan Lennon, for it is she, wrote what a great idea such a challenge was, and went on to reveal her current literary plans and wish him all the best with completing his task.

I'm therefore greener with envy than the Incredible Hulk. The Incredible Sulk even.

Whither Paul Auster, Cormac McCarthy, Nick Hornby, Charlie Brooker, even wrestler Mick Foley getting in touch on these very pages? Jealous doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what I feel, and you can rest assured that I intend to read the complete works of Ms Lennon sooner rather than later...

But there's more. I have learned the Friend of the Wench, not content with whupping my ass on every front, has also been entering competitions in a bid to add to his burgeoning library - and he's only gone and won.

Exactly what, I'm not sure, but the detail doesn't really matter. It's more the drip, drip, drip of constant success that is akin to water torture.