BROWN’S BRITAIN

-Graduates of mediaeval history reduced to working as pimps.

-Wiltshire Police acquire a spy drone and use it to photograph some hippies. (This was by Jeremy Clarkson in The Sunday Times, so it may well be untrue.)

-And this is simply the most retarded thing I have read in my life.

KRUGMAN’S CAT

Krugman has posted a photo of his cat on the New York Times website. It is just the sort of cat you would expect Krugman to have, all snooty and superior-looking. Acting like it won the Nobel Prize.

I am Krugman’s Russian Blue,
Pray tell me, sir, whose cat are you?

It is no secret that Krugman and I haven’t always seen eye to eye on the issues. He thinks we need a $28 trillion fiscal stimulus, for instance, whereas I believe that you don’t need a fiscal stimulus if you’ve got Jesus.

And there are those who say that this is a debate between one of the most brilliant minds of his generation, and Krugman, sparring as equals. Let us not drag families and pets into this clash of the heavyweights, they say. Leave the cat out of it.

But wait a minute. Once the Clintons appeared in public with their 13-year old daughter, the rules changed. She became public figure, and Rush Limbaugh could call her a dog with a clear conscience.

Sorry, but if Krugman is going to use his cat to bolster his public image, there is no reason why I cannot call his cat a dog, and write ad felinium attacks mocking and denouncing the animal.

As far as I’m concerned, it is open season on Krugman’s cat.

HE TOUCHED THE HEARTS OF SIMPLETONS EVERYWHERE

Michael Jackson is dead, but his songs will always be with us. So will he, in fact: he's made of plastic.

Obviously I had grown out of that crap by the time I went to secondary school, but I know you simple folk used to like him, and I respect your simple tastes. Some of his early stuff was good.

Whatsa matter you? Hey!
Why you looka so sad? Hey!
Gotta no respecca...

That song helped me through a lot of difficult times, though I don't know if I would use the word genius.

No display of ass-hattery will be judged excessive in the coming days. If Blair himself read a prayer at Jackson's funeral then led the congregation in an embarrassing dance, I would hardly wince.

HUGH GRANT

With typically English understatement he hoofed a photographer in the testicles.



If it weren’t for that man the foreigners would have realised years ago how violent and uncouth the British are. We could reel their streets at noon, smashing up bars and vomiting into the fountains, but there was always Hugh Grant with his floppy haircut, making out that we’re a nation of weedy booksellers.

Now that even Hugh Grant is snarling and taking socks at people, perhaps the truth will dawn.

There are only two things in this world I hate: R n’ B singers, and the people who hide them.

These people are trying to claim that the British National Party (the B n’ P) want to ban R n’ B and replace it with Chas n’ Dave. The idea being, I suppose, that millions of Whitney Houston fans will Unite Against Fascism.

Now you is just the kinda girl to break my heart in two,
I knew right off when I first clapped my eyes on you,
But how was I to know you'd bend my earholes too?

You know who else liked Chas n’ Dave? Himmler.

Chas n’ Dave, Whitney Houston, Himmler, the BNP… it is hard to take these people seriously.

DE MENEZES, JAQUI SMITH

The boys in blue have complementary opposing forces up the yin yang.

THE SOAP YOU CAN BELIEVE IN

Needing some Daz! for the washing machine I left the house and proceeded in a disorderly manner to the shop on the corner. It was shut.

I have started my own Twitter account. Now you can follow the minutiae of my dull lifestyle minute by minute, and share the tedium with me in real time as my life unfolds, or folds up.