A Trying Week

A trying week lies ahead for me. I have to find the right words with which to turn down the dukedom offered me in the Blair Resignation Honours List. Then I have to avoid being disappeared by Brown's VAT goons when they knock on my door at midnight. Meanwhile, everybody is going to be discussing politics and saying what a bold move it was to give Hazel Harman the job vacated by Hilary Prescott, just when we thought it would go to Jack Balls. Having watched our new Prime Minister being fairly well grilled on Newsnight, most of my suspicions have been confirmed. He had clearly been coached not to boil over with rancorous, Prestbyterian contempt at any hint of criticism, but when Evan Davis pointed out he always raised taxes after elections, usually in violation of manifesto promises, he did show signs of turning green, bursting out of his suit and trashing the studio. Also why, having got him to say he apologised for the miserable ineptitude of the handling of post-war Iraq, did John Simpson and the others fail to ask him what, exactly, he was apologising for? Was it the catastrophic American sacking of the entire Iraqi army? Yes or no, Gordon? Anyway, I now understand why it is so hard to follow what he is saying. He was plainly a foundling brought up by the Amazonian Piraha tribe. Research into the language used by these people suggests Naom Chomsky's idea of universal grammar may be wrong. They call any language other than their own 'crooked head'. Come to think of it, this may also explain Amanda. How could we crooked headers hope to understand this? Anyway, if blogging suddenly stops, you'll know either Brown's boys have got me or I have reluctantly agreed to take over the sadly delapidated Duchy of Dollis Hill.