First it was the Grey's Anatomy/House dilemma, now I find myself torn in two over competing crime dramas.

Unit One, available now on DVD and screening on SBS from September, is Danish, features some very depressing, misty scenery, and stars the utterly divine Mads Mikkelsen. It features a different crime to solve each week, but continuity is provided by the turbulent personal dramas of the main characters. It's evocative of Wildside: muted palettes, soulful music, moody men and a strong but troubled central female character. Love it love it love it.

I've now watched two episodes of The Wire on DVD, and it's something else entirely. It feels more like watching a long, looping movie, and it moves seamlessly between the viewpoints of cops, detectives, criminals and lawyers. It's a bit blokey so far, but it's just so interesting: bottle fights and car burning in the towers of Baltimore, witness intimdation, and a dark-eyed Irish loner called Jimmy McNulty.

To sum it up, I'm doing an extremely good job of avoiding the temptation to sit in front of the TV for every waking hour. Which is just as well, because I'm reading the 838 page Booker stunner, and that requires at least a modicum of concentration...oh, and I'm going overseas for a month on Monday. Haven't packed/organised accommodation/written the paper I have to give. It's a matter of priorities.

So, I just finished On Chesil Beach five minutes ago, and I can confidently pronounce that it's just the sort of book the judges will love: that is, it's a steaming pile of pretentious, overwrought, underimagined, insecure, inauthentic crap. It's ineffective pornography that makes you feel bad about the world. If it had been one page over its "novella" length, I woudn't have bothered. The only thing that makes me think it won't win the Booker is that I have a hunch the judges want to consecrate a newbie.

Sinha's Animal's People, by way of refreshing contrast, is original and fun. It's potentially heart-rending and do-gooderish - the author is a real life volunteer for victims of the Bhopal poison tragedy - but the mix of aggression, sexuality and humour makes it work. Pretty good stuff.

While I was busy handing in my review, dumping my mobile phone in the rubbish bin from whence it was devoured by the steel jaws of the garbage truck, collapsing in a heap etcetera, those darned Booker prize judges weren't waiting for me to get ready. The long list is out. Good news: just 12 books. Let's go.

Darkmans by Nicola Barker (Fourth Estate)
Self Help by Edward Docx (Picador)
The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng (Myrmidon)
The Gathering by Anne Enright (Jonathan Cape)
The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid (Hamish Hamilton)
The Welsh Girl by Peter Ho Davies (Sceptre)
Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones (John Murray)
Gifted by Nikita Lalwani (Viking)
On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan (Jonathan Cape)
What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn (Tindal Street)
Consolation by Michael Redhill (William Heinemann)
Animal's People by Indra Sinha (Simon & Schuster)
Winnie & Wolf by A N Wilson (Hutchinson)

Early tip for a win = On Chesil Beach. Because I don't want to read it.