October 11th 2004 - October 17th 2004
Sunday Buttiboi
Saturday Survivor
Friday Sure...(2)
Thursday Baroque'n'roll
Wednesday Statuesque
Tuesday Toilet-training
Monday Free at last
Sunday 17th October 2004
As a card-carrying liberal, I have to admit to a sneaking sympathy for embattled EC Commissioner wannabe Rocco Buttiglione who, when all's said and done, was surely making a point in support of pro-gay legislation rather than, as widely interpreted, agin it.
That said, I still think he's an idiot. And he'll always be Buttiboi to me.
(Whilst expressing sympathy in unlikely quarters, can we also all please note that Boris Johnson didn't actually write the notorious jeremiad about Liverpool, but 'merely' published it?)
Saturday 16th October 2004
I did have documentary evidence of this, but now it's mislaid, so you'll just have to take my word for it that early versions of the Daily Telegraph, one day last week, covered a vital vote of confidence for the Canadian Prime Minister under the headline:
Canadian PM faces crisis vote over submarine
A later edition, once the results of the vote were in, chnaged the headline to:
Canadian PM survives crisis on submarine
(which, when you think about it, is quite a good place to do it.)
Friday 15th October 2004
Mr Prime Minister, could we talk about the fact that (unlike David Beckham) you still can't bring yourself to actually say sorry?
Sure..I say, did you see how they've suddenly discovered all these terrible mass graves in Iraq?
Thursday 14th October 2004
Bliss: Me, the duvet and all 800 pages of the the third and final volume of Neal Stephenson's Baroque trilogy, The System of the World.
I really can't recommend this work highly enough: witty, mordant historical drama with a cast of characters that mixes Sir Isaac Newton with pirates, vagabonds, escaped slaves, and myriad princesses, all enmeshed in a complex fast-moving plot that carries the commentary across every known sphere of human thought. Wonderful.
Wednesday 13th October 2004
Naked political ambition is never attractive, especially when embodied in the white-haired bug-eyed perma-tanned spectre of Robert Kilroy-Silk (who surely deserves at least some sort of prize for heading an overly crowded field as the least-credible politician ever).
Avert your gaze. Turn it - as if you had much choice - towards Nikki Sinclaire, the 6ft 4in lesbian currently conducting a Julian* minuet with the now-you-see-it, now-you-don't gay wing of the UKIP.
(It was Julius Caesar, was it not, who conducted a complex dance with public opinion when repeatedly asked to be king: 'We'd really like you to..', 'I couldn't possibly...', 'We beg you to...', 'Absolutely not.', 'Pretty please?', 'Oh go on then.')
Tuesday 12th October 2004
As news breaks of another bomb-blast outside Abu Ghraib prison, spare a thought for the news that Lynddie England has just become a mother.
You may want waste an idle moment or two pondering just how she will be exercising her authority over this child - the toilet-training regime promises to be especially inventive. (Photos coming to a web-site near you soon, no doubt)
Monday 11th October 2004
My ancient letterbox is not really designed to accomodate modern newspapers, especially the Sunday variety; front page news rarely arrives on my doormat without a least a few words shredded from the headline.
Hence my momentary bemusement on picking up the paper yesterday and reading Ken Bigley's desperate bid to escape his mum.
......previous week
