How bad is an article on Comment is Free?

I find that I can usually predict how vacuous an article on CiF is by seeing whether it meets the following criteria:

(a) Is it written by Henry Porter?
(b) Do the subsequent comments suggest that - had one not already read the article - that it is the finest piece of writing since J.S. Mill loaded up his Quill 2.0 application and looked around for the parchment?

If there is convergence on (a) and (b) then you have some idea how I felt when I read this.

Henry's key points seem to be:

(a) We shouldn't have a debate on detention of over 28 days because the notion is an Affront To Liberty, there've only been a couple of terrorist plots in recent years and they have largely focused on public transport. Henry travels by car.
(b) CCTV cameras in town centres and speed cameras are an Affront To Liberty.
(c) The State is, by it's nature, determined to take away your liberty because:
(d) The State is evil.
(e) Gordon Brown is "after your rights". Why and how isn't fully explained in the article however. Presumably he's "after" them because Brown is in charge of The State (see above).
(f) We should have a Bill of Rights because the organisation behind the Power Inquiry and the LibDems says so, hopefully leading to PHAT contracts for all the organisations involved in these endeavours should Brown be persuadable on the issue. Trebles all round!

He is pleased, however, that the right to protest on Parliament Square has been restored; walking past it this morning, with its array of tents, it resembled a kind of Westminster Eurocamp. A triumph for disciples of Voltaire indeed.

Oh and another thing, I'm fed up of everybody citing the Rowntree Trust "on liberty" as if they are an impartial organisation whose utterances have the authority of Holy Writ. It wasn't too long ago they were funding the woeful Power Inquiry as well as slipping the LibDems a substantial amount of wonga which, to some, might suggest an agenda.

Sorry, I'm a little cynical today.

Quiet in here, isn't it?

It's quieter than a disco at a Trappist monastery in Parliament at the moment.

Blogging will be intermittent.

Any Questions, Hamer? Yeah, one or two since you ask. But this is a family site.
Insanity on Radio 4. What is the world coming to, I asks ye?

Dimbers: Hello, I'm one of the Dimblebys and welcome to Any Questions. On the panel today are Mad Nad Dorries MP, Peter "I'm A Parliamentary Candidate For The Green Party You Know" Tatchell, Charles Moore, and Who's Yer Daddy Benn. First question please.

Bloke: Was human behaviour responsible for the recent flooding?

Tatchell: I don't think it's a coincidence that this happened under a Labour Government, do you? They are EEEEEVIL. Afterall, I remember hotter summers and colder winters when I was a kid, and they've not been the same recently. You know what, it's because it is all Brown's fault. FACT. Well, because I said so. God, I'm cool and (did you know?) a parliamentary candidate. Vote for me! Yeah!

Moore: And the Lord said unto Noah...300 cubits...two of every animal...not John Major though. He stays.

Dimbers: Thank you Charles Moore. Mad Nad?

Mad Nad: Well, why are we building new homes on flood plains for heaven's sake? Putting up nasty little houses - possibly near mine - all across England's green and pleasant land and they'll only put the immigrants in 'em. Give the inner city a makeover and put them in there, for heaven's sake! How? Oh, I don't know. Does it matter?

Tatchell: I hate Trident and road building and intervention in Iraq. Relevance to the price of fish? Well, did I mention I was a parliamentary candidate? Vote for me! Yeah!

Madam: Should Cameron have cut himself in half?

[for one glorious moment I thought she was speaking literally, and Shawcross Towers was almost rent usunder by my yell of "HELL YEAH!". But it became clear she was talking about Cameron's decision to bugger off and get a tan instead of staying in Blighty to help with the floods]

Mad Nad: God, no! David Cameron was out in his wellies in Oxfordshire before Gordon Brown had even looked out of the window and realised that it was raining...

[cheers and whooping! Lord, she's right! Gordo had no idea about the floods. None at all! Thank heavens for that nice David Cameron and his shiny face and his wellies and his gorgeous photo shoots containing all of the above whilst Gordon was SELFISHLY holed up in meetings attempting to co-ordinate the recovery attempt.]

Mad Nad: ...so he was absolutely right to go to Rwanda, even though their parliament was in recess so the only conceivable reason for his visit was to get his shiny face and his wellies and his gorgeous photo shoots containing all of the above on the news. Imagine what his presence could do for Rwanda in light of what it achieved for Oxfordshire!

Peter Tatchell: I am a parliamentary candidate so I am not going to make a cheap political point [pauses to polish his halo]...er, where was I? I don't know. Who cares? Vote for me!

Dimbers: Time for a straw poll as to whether Cameron got it right or wrong on his Rwanda visit. Ah! I see you all support his decision.

Peter Tatchell: [greasily] I think that shows the generosity and the humanism of the people of Oxfordshire. Well done.

As a nation rushes to the bogs to vomit, I decide to scavenge for the first beer of the evening (I have it on the listen-again setting). I will spare you Tatchell's teenage posturing over his cannabis smoking - horrific in a "your Dad getting down wid da kidz" way - because I feel that as many innocent readers of this blog as possible should be spared the pain.

Needless to say that Satan will be going to work in a snow plough before I turn on this week's Any Answers. The horror concluded with Dimbers asking the panellists what each would save in the event of their house being flooded. Mad Nad went for the kids, I can't remember what Charles Moore wanted, and Benn decided to save the valuables upstairs (proving himself a true heir to the proud traditions of materialism started by a certain leader back in the 1920s). And Tatchell? Well, he wanted to point out that if there wasn't an Iraq war going on and tuition fees, we wouldn't be in this mess.

How, I hear you ask?

Tatchell: Er...um...oh yes. I'm a parliamentary candidate! Like a talking Barbie doll, if you press my stomach I will mouth the platitudes I think YOU want to hear! Vote for me! Yeah!

Uses for a George Galloway?
Hat tip Devil's Kitchen

It is for far greater students of Parliament than I to answer me this: is this the first time the phrase "spunk loving sluts" has been uttered in the House of Commons (c611 here)? By that I mean the Chamber rather than the Strangers' Bar where, I am willing to bet, it has seen a fair usage.

For me however, the best bit is the way that George gallantly apologises to Harriet Harman for the language she is about to hear, "close your ears, Harriet, this is where the men talk about Unwholesome Sex. Oh good Lord, she's fainted! Mr Speaker! The smelling salts!"

Mind you, there's something of Rhett Butler at the fall of Atlanta about the entire episode. Imagine: masterfully sweeping a weakly protesting Harriet up into his arms and ignoring the barrage of fire from the Speaker, George escapes from the Chamber and those evil supporters of "Israel" and into the cool opulence of Central Lobby.

Harriet: But George, what shall we do? Where shall we go?
George: Frankly my dear...[yeah, you know the rest]

I've just re-read this and it looks a little mad. Never mind: IT'S RECESS, BABY!

House Adjourned

I feared the day would never come when those blessed words would appear on the green annunciator screen, but praise be to God - the House is in recess!

Woohoo!

I permitted the Rwandans to look upon my blonde fruitiness. And lo! they were grateful
The Boy Dave's trip to Rwanda and its implications. Paraphrased on the BBF; full woo-hoos here.

Before I start on my weekly Sextator rant, it's worth flagging up that this article on Cameron's "wobble" is well worth a read for the right reasons.

I have spent the last few days in Rwanda with Dave (we're THAT close, you see) and was jolly annoyed, upon my return, to see the moaning that's been going on in the British media about the visit: "oh, Cameron (THEY clearly haven't been invited to call him Dave like I have. I think they're jealous) should have stayed at home because there's a crisis." I mean, really! It's only flooding for heavens sake and it didn't affect my house, so what's all the fuss about? Of course, if it it had hit north London then it would have been a different story as it could have ruined my collection of Manolo Blahniks, but in the final analysis, there's been no real harm done.

I think it's all so unfair. So Gordon Brown has been co-ordinating the response and helping to ensure that everything runs as smoothly as possible. Well, snoooooooooooreeeeeeee, frankly. There's him and the dowdy-looking other MPs doing their duty and representing their constituents, holding the Government to account over the handling of the flooding, and assisting their local councils in getting help from Whitehall in this endeavour (and looking jolly serious and boring in the process), when gorgeous Dave (did I say that he insisted I call him that?) is over in Rwanda looking all shiny and young and open-necked shirted. Gordon Brown must be so gutted.

I - even if nobody on the Government benches is aware of this fact - am able to report that rain is so not a good look this season. Sorry Gordon, but tokenistic demonstrations of a new "caring" attitude, and mouthing frothy, insubstantial platitudes are IN. Fact.

I have been associated with Project Umubano from the start and think that this flood obsession just because a couple of poor people (who all live beyond Watford Gap Service station. Chuh, I thought we'd granted devolution to Scotland?!) have lost their homes and have been subjected to misery smacks of parochialism and arrogance.* But in spite of all that, Dave chose to leave the dismal weather here and had the bally courage to get on a plane and show the world that just because his constituents needed him, he wasn't going to be put off getting a great tan and trying to improve his poll ratings.

I listened, breathless with admiration as Dave outlined his plan for Africa to a rapt Kigali parliament. Policy initiatives included "helping Africa", "trying to help Africa be more healthy" and "helping Africa help itself". Hard hitting stuff, what what? I was inspired and I'm sure - because they saw that I was inspired - everyone else was inspired too.

I laughed like a drain when Dave (he's so sweet. "Barbie", he said to me, "do call me Dave") made a joke. He's so funny! I bet Gordon Brown isn't funny. Anyway, we were chatting about the fact that the Rwandan parliament contains the highest number of female members of any parliament in the world. Dave said, "cripes! We could learn a few things from these fellows!" I still giggle when I think about it!

I suppose the Tory Party could introduce women only short lists and actually affect social change, but Dave's real strength is talking about what would be nice and looking jolly young and floppy haired whilst he's doing it. I think he should stick to doing just that and not worry about what those silly people in his constituency, his party, Ealing Southall, and Sedgefield think of him. Chuh! What do they matter anyway?

***

Occasional Political Dictionary

* Arrogance: politicians are accused of this attitude when they disagree with you. See also not listening to The People(TM) and spin.

For want of a horse's nail

I was listening to Today with only one ear earlier (managed to drop water on the laptop and spray deodorant in the budgie's face. It wasn't a good morning) but still managed to pick up on the news that there has been yet another survey of British yoof: their personal relationships, how much they drink, existential crises, et cetera.

In the Shawcross youth, a complaint that the trainers the mater had bought for PE were SO NOT COOL and would lead to ostracsim would have been met with the shortest of shrifts. These days, apparently, such instances of child abuse require an immediate inquiry by UNICEF and Barnardos, followed by angry calls that the Government issue new guidelines on best practice in parental trainer provision.

They don't know they're born.

Anyway, it did strike me (as I was trying to placate the budgie) that asking teenagers how much sex they have, drugs they take, drink they down is but a blunt instrument with which extract the truth. Imagine the scene: a studious and hardworking researcher for a children's charity is sitting across from Trevor.

Trevor is fourteen. For years his attitude towards the opposite sex could be summed up with the words "girls smell", but recently he's begun finding the aroma intoxicating. Unfortunately, due to his interesting facial combination of bumfluff and astonishingly prolific acne as well as the fact that his voice can go from bottom C to top E in the course of one sentence, none of the ladies in his peer group are that interested in him. This he finds disappointing because - according to his mates - they are all doing "it". In fact, everybody in the world is doing "it" apart from him; he reckons that even his parents have done "it" at some stage. SO NOT COOL.

Researcher: Are you a virgin?

Trevor: [attempting unsuccessfully not to stare at her bazoombas] Er…um…uh

Researcher: It's okay if you are.

Trevor: No, no! I'm not a virgin! I do The Sex all the time! I did it three times last night!

Researcher: [shocked at such promiscuousness in one so young] Three times?

Trevor: I usually do The Sex fourteen times a night. But [proudly] I was drunk last night!

[Trevor's real relationship with alcohol extends no further than a small sherry at Christmas, but he's on a roll, baby!]

Researcher: How much did you drink?

Trevor: Fourteen pints (copyright W. Hague Esq, 2001)

Researcher: Do you usually drink that much?

Trevor: I do The Booze all the time! I'm drunk right now.

Researcher: [horrified, scribbling furiously] And drugs?

[The last drug Trevor had was the obligatory lemon chalky thing - standard issue for school nurses everywhere - when he caught food poisoning off the organic penne and low fat carbonara from the school canteen's Jamie Olivered kitchen]

Trevor: I was totally out of my face on The Drugs last Friday!

Researcher: [under her breath] Dear Lord!

From whence we get a predictably apocalyptic report about how todays yoof are all mini Pete Doherty's in the making who are learning nothing in school apart from how to drink, smoke, and shag their way across the green and pleasant lands of England. This gets picked up on by the meedja (Daily Mail has a field day) and suddenly we have a National Epidemic™ of underage licentiousness and, potentially, a War On Teenage Shagging on the Government agenda.

Or am I just cynical?

It's the way he tells 'em

I was listening to George Galloway's stirring speech on t'Ipod this morning (hat tip Today In Parliament - Beeb website on a go-slow so no link - sorry!) on how his current predicament and frosty relations with Sir Philip Mawer and the Standards and Privileges Committee is due to the "politicised" nature of his "tribunal" and was curious enough to look up the relevant section in Hansard (available here).

This phrase caught my eye:

"Once I looked at who was on the Committee on Standards and Privileges, I could not believe my eyes. The hon. Member for Hendon (Mr. Dismore) was one of them—a fanatical supporter of Israel, against which I have fought all my political life. Is it really true that he left his politics at the door when he was judging me? Does anybody really believe that?"

Erm...? Am I alone in thinking the turn of phrase here is somewhat iffy? Apparently it got worse because he was then ejected from the Chamber, threatening to continue with his declamation outside.

Out on location

I am out of the BBF offices today, so blogging will be light. Only four sitting days until recess; I shall be crawling across the finishing line.

Ealing update from Hoby

Funny as always; link here.

Pottermania!

I realise I might be in the minority here, but I'm actually quite looking forward to reading the final installation of the boy Potter marathon.

There's a certain attitude that's become fashionable around my friends which ensures that when I mention my Potter enthusiasm, the response is inevitably a raised eyebrow followed by a sneer and a withering put-down about how they will be spending their time translating Paradise Lost into Hebrew, instead of reading that book like "ordinary people".

Now, I realise the hype is irritating, but I manage to remain unaware of what Paris Hilton's up to, in spite of the wall-to-wall coverage of this vacuous non-entity. Similarly, if you aren't interested in Potter, just let it all wash over you; we live in the era of news democratisation - just flip on the internet and read something non Potter-related of your choosing. Why moan about it?

It is my sneaking suspicion that those who claim that they don't read Potter "on principle" are only doing so to flag up their higher interleckshual status. In which case, the boy Potter is as valuable to them as it is to us who occasionally just like a cracking read and a bit of escapism; we read it, they build their House of Ego on it.

This isn't a dig at those who can't abide Potter and just go on their merry way without feeling the need to use it to flag up their superior credentials.

Oh what a night!
...late July back in 2007, what a very special time for me...Nah, it doesn't work, does it? Never mind, for there is rejoicing on the streets of Southall!

Or there probably would be if it wasn't p*ssing it down with rain. Call this a summer? I blame the Government.

What a horrific night for the Conservatives. If I were Bojo, I'd be crapping it at the moment - watching the Boy Dave sink faster than a glass of beaujolais nouveau down the gullet of George Best (God rest him). See Bojo? For all the media fawning over the nice hair styles, the big white I-worked-in-public-affairs-you-know smiles, and impeccably upper-class credentials, when it comes to where the voters want to slap an X in the ballot box, these things matter not at all. Fiscal stability and excellent public services or the garbled meanderings of a posho who thinks that this politics lark is a ripping extension of the jolly japes he had at the Oxford Union? Southall and Sedgefield have given us all an indication of what they think makes more sense, so if Boris reckons he can walk the mayoralty on the "I'm posh you know" platform then this should give him pause. Think on, Bojo. Think on.

But what a night for Labour, eh? We held both Ealing Southall and Sedgefield although our share of the vote fell by an average of 10.8 percentage points (apologies if I got this wrong; back of the cigarette packet style mathematics were used). The Tories - yes, the bright new shiny Tories with their eminently suitable candidate who enjoyed the almost obsessive backing of Dave - increased their share of the vote by a whopping 0.9 and 0.2 percentage points respectively.

Incredible. An average increase of just over 0.5? Superb! And this was when the Tories appeared on the ballot paper as "Cameron's Conservatives"; a personal endorsement that this morning is looking like it might have been a bit of a risky investment. He gambled that the use of his name would see the Tories romping home to victory in Southall and a respectable second in Sedgefield instead of dropping from second place in the 2005 GE to third behind the Liberal Democrats. He lost, and now people are asking whether brand Cameron is more kiss of death than kiss of life to Tory party fortunes.

To compound his woe, Tony Lit was being presented as the standard bearer of the "new Conservatives" and the kind of Cameroonie candidate that won elections. Scraping a poor third isn't the way to persuade your activists that you are dragging the party in the right direction, and the comments on ConservativeHome (where the grumblings had started on even before the scale of the Ealing Massacre had been fully realised) seems to indicate that the grass-roots are none too impressed. One commentator warns ominously that it is "time to start producing results 'Dave' or we may want our party back." Ruh-roh! Tony Blair in 1994 he clearly ain't.

Whence from here? Freemania provides a comparison with Major in 1991: the Tories lost two by-election seats and their share of the vote fell by 17.9 percentage points, but they went on to win the 1992 GE the following year. We've done considerably better than that, so what's the chances of Brown capitalising on this (and the bounce) and calling an October election?

With the news that Miliband the Even Younger and wee Dougie Alexander are up to all sorts of political strategy shennanigans, there is an outside chance that Brown makes some sort of announcement at Conference and we have an autumn GE on a manifesto designed cheifly by the kiddoes mentioned above. For all his demands for a GE on the grounds that Brown wasn't elected by the populace (clearly he's never heard of Bagehot's The English Constitution, nor does he understand the basic principles of our political system) but crowned by the Labour Party, I reckon the last thing that Cameron actually wants is a snap election. Call his bluff Gordon and smack that great clunking fist into his shiny chops!

Meanwhile, a few weeks prior to this Cameron makes an IDS style "the quiet (posh) man has just turned up the volume!" speech and is knifed callously and deliciously by David "Cassius" Davis and his praetorian guard comprising of Iain Dale and ConservativeHome as soon as he ducks into the green room. Ah, yes. I've passed into the realm of fantasy but let me remain here a few moments more.

[smiles happily at thought of Cameron's messy political demise]

Mind you, an autumn election will be hard work; I don't think I've fully recovered from the last one yet.

In other good news, it appears that loans-for-lordships has hit the buffers. As the late, great Oscar Wilde once said, it would take a heart of stone not to laugh at Guido's predicament. He's been confidently pushing this one for what seems like forever, but like every other "campaign" he's waged (remember shop-a-SpAd? What happened there?) he's ended up with egg on his face. In traditional Guido style, he's chosen to assuage his pain by posting a picture of one of Those Labour Gays and inviting his readers post something grim about said gentleman. Still never mind. As Guido and the coppers in Yates' team are going to have time on their hands, I think they should look in to the concerning amount of apparent insider information that was appearing all over the bloggersphere about the investigation.

Up for it boys? No, I rather thought not.

How the meedja works
A quick one comrades, for I need to repair to the bank to attempt to rectify my recent financial embarrassment.

As far as I can work out, the way in which the fourth estate adds their special kicking to the public understanding of political discourse goes something like this:

The issue: cauliflower farming in Scarborough. A blight in Transylvanian cauliflowers is threatening to extinguish the Scarborough crop unless action is taken.

Choose your interviewer: Someone prepared to be ANGRY on behalf of men, women and cauliflower everywhere....Humpers!

Select your suitably outraged cauliflower farmer: If he has suffered a recent bereavement that can be tenuously linked to cauliflower blight, so much the better: crowbarring in the phrase "blood on the Government's hands" is where it's at these days.

THE ACTION:

Humpers: Welcome to Today on Radion 4, I'm John Humphrys. The Government has been accused of doing nothing to prevent a blight in the Scarborough cauliflower crop that is threatening to cost the industry billions of pounds and perhaps wipe it out altogether. With us in the studio is Mr Jones, who owns a cauliflower farm within the affected area. Mr Jones, do you think the Government has done enough to protect cauliflower farmers like yourself?

Mr Jones: [obediently giving the "correct" answer] No I don't John. We've got no help from the Government at all and the worry recently sent my wife to her grave.

Humpers: I'm sorry to hear that. Was she perfectly healthy before this betrayal - as you see it - by DEFRA happened?

Mr Jones: Oh yes, she was the life and soul even though she was ninety-seven when she finally passed on. Smoked eighty a day, and was always ready for a kebab or two on the way home from the pub.

Humpers: Thank you. Joining us now is the Minister responsible for cauliflower farming. Minister, what do you have to say about Mr Jones' accusation that your lack of clarity on this issue is forcing cauliflower farmers in Scarborough into bankruptcy and, in the case of Mrs Jones, an early grave?

Minister: John, can I correct you on one point? We haven't been ignoring the problem. As soon as we became aware of it in 2004, we instigated measures - notably the Cauliflower Famers (Protection from Blight) Order 2005 which limited the import of Transylvanian cauliflowers. This legislation has made a real impact on the transportation of infected goods and the domestic industry has begun to recover. On top of that we've been working with the community in Scarborough to -

Humpers: [metaphorically waving the corpse of Mrs Jones around] You haven't been trying that hard though, have you? You were too late to save Mrs Jones.

[Minister is now in a quandry. To claim that the Mrs Jones' situation was nothing to do with the price of fish (or, in this case, cauliflowers) will lead to outrage on the part of Mr Jones and Humpers alike. To give condolence is to tacitly give in. To ignore is to be seen as heartless. Better heartless than mindless; Minister plumps for option three.]

Minister: In addition we have paid out many thousands of pounds in compensation that -

Humpers: But the industry is worth billions! They're never going to recover all of their money and if you'd acted sooner, then they wouldn't be in this predicament and maybe [starts swinging the corpse again] Mrs Jones would still be alive. The Government's failed, hasn't it?

Minister: If you would let me finish John -

Humpers: No, I'm sorry, that's all we've got time for. Next up is Chris Atkins, director of "Taking Liberties" who is arguing that we should, in the words of his film "ban crap laws".

Atkins: Yes John. Let me give you an example of one of the many laws that are totally useless and should be abolished: the Polish Potato Order 2004 which is something about preventing blight in the British crop. Why is the Government bothering with this minutae unless it wants to control our lives in an evil and Machievellian fashion?

Humpers: Minister, whilst you're here wouldn't you agree that Mr Atkins has a point - that there are too many unneccessary laws and the Government is involving itself in the detail more than it should? I mean: a law about potato blight? Come on! Isn't the truth that you are a bunch of control freaks that we, the brave and always just media are correct to expose, whilst simultaneously holding you responsible for a perceived "hands off" approach when things go tits up?

Minister: [begins to weep]

Humpers: And that's all we have time for...et cetera, et cetera

Keep this one in mind, comrades, for the "prison crisis" this summer. I can hear the sound of lobby hacks salivating even from where I'm sitting.

Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink

How, HOW is it that Beloved and I manage to pay a sizable amount of our disposable income to Rupert bloody Murdoch and his family business to recieve the joke that is Sky "Television" and there's not a bloody thing to watch apart from eternal re-runs of My Family and News 24?

I think there's a wider point to be made about this, but I'm too busy feeling the heat of my limited pennies burning their way through my holey pocket to feel up to the analysis.

Over and out.

My eyes! My eyes!

Jesus wept.

Hat tip Bloggerheads.

Bag-carriers united! Or, maybe not

Interesting article in today's Times about those whom MPs choose to give access to the gilded opulence and bar facilities of the Parliamentary Estate. This follows on from yesterday's article that reported that some Lords are giving Parliamentary passes (which are worth more than their weight in gold) to various members of our bretheren in political consultancy. The absence of a Register of Lords' Staff Interests means that nobody has hitherto known for sure what financial interests Lords' staff have - a state of affairs which is, frankly, ludicrous. Commons staff are registered up to the groin; why on earth should the situation be different for the bag-carriers of our ermine clad comrades in another place?

This was covered - in predictably apocalyptic terms - by Guido Fawkes who accused various individuals of having their "snouts in the trough...democracy is bad...bring back the state of nature...oooh you're being mean to me - I'm off to cwy and then get my Big Lawyers on you." For the first time ever perhaps, I do find myself in agreement with Mr Fawkes on this one.

Today the Times covered the issue of MPs handing out their passes to individuals who - it has to be said - do not strike me so much as nature's bag-carriers - labouring at the coalface of representative democracy on behalf of an elected Member - as those who might like the freedom of a Parliamentary Pass to access the rich networking opportunties so vital to the ascent up the greasy pole.

There were some familiar names in the article but I was most interested when a comrade emailed me to point out that one such grateful recipient of a Parliamentary Pass is no other than Samuel Coates, the deputy editor of Conservative Home. His MP? Why, one Mad Nad Dorries!

Now, what's interesting about this is that a couple of months ago ConHome sycophantically linked to Nad's post entitled "first born" - a vomit-fest of epic and previously unscaled proportions. But ConHome was smitten: "Nadine is a star of the parliamentary party and it shouldn't be long before a newspaper offers her a regular platform for her views." An extract from the post:

"Newcastle was cold, wet, and, windy, no surprises there then.

"I headed towards the monument in the town centre where I had arranged to meet my daughter. She was late, as always.

"Has the casualness of youth and the perpetuity of time ever had a synchronized relationship?"

Yers. Her posts about her knickers, her views on travellers, abortion, as well as how to deal with sex-offenders have also made me laugh and weep in equal measure, although probably not in the way Ms Dorries would like.

In addition to that, Nad also won the Best Parliamentary Blog award at...ConHome! What a coincidence, eh? Were the other Tory blog contenders even more downright awful, or are more sinister forces at work?

I demand an Independent Inquiry(TM) or a Kevin Costner film on this conspiracy, immediately!

That Bojo statement in full
Bear with me here people - I'm trying to summon the enthusiasm

Crikey!

It looks like your favourite Michael Fabricant-alike has got himself in another spiffing pickle. That's right chums! I've put myself forward as the Conservative mayoralty candidate and am all set to cross swords [with Ken's political approach to these matters it's more likely to be something less gentlemanly than swords. Like scud missiles - Ed] with that Congestion Charging newt-faced Labourite, Ken Livingstone.

I'll give you an example of how low Old King Newt is prepared to go in this contest - already his army of evil spinners are putting it about that I'm just a posh toff who tries to cover the gaping hole where his ideology and policy proposals should reside by saying things like "crikey!" and "spiffing!" when it looks like it's getting hairy. "Good old Boris," the serfs laugh as I sail past them with my Eton tie fashionably akimbo, "what a character!" They love a bit of posh in their boring proletariat lives, and I say give the people what they want: more Boris.

So to all those who told me not to run, I say phooey.

London is undoubtedly the greatest city in England, Europe, the world, the universe! Simply superb - apart from the bits that are worse since Ken became mayor such as the introduction of the bendy-buses for which I hold a deep-seated and never-quite-explained loathing. Just why people have to catch the bus at all in London is beyond me - the selfish parasites. I cycle to work every day because I live in a huge mansion in central London. Frankly, the sort of people who have to live out in the sticks because they are on minimum wage make my blood boil with their bendy-bus patronage. Don't give me the "oh, but it only costs me a quid to get eleven miles into work on the bus" excuse. I've always said, if you cannot be bothered to be posh and own a pad in Chelsea, then you aren't in a position to complain. In any case, anywhere outside zone one doesn't really qualify as London. I've never seen the rumoured lands that are supposed to lie beyond Earls Court nor met any of their so-called inhabitants. Labour spin is what I call it!

I suppose I will be pilloried for being a "toff", for representing a small section of society, and all I can say is, be my guest but remember that it's jolly unfair: I do not discriminate on the basis of class or education. But then again, I've always thought Ken Livingstone an extremely common little man.

Apologies

I'll be back online tomorrow. It's been a sh*te weekend and a rough couple of days.

Remember me in your prayers.

Later...

You'll have to cope without my wit until later I'm afraid. The news about Bojo's candidacy for the mayoralty combined with the horrific possibility that he might win is only made worse by the eventuality that he loses and Livingstone gets a third term.

I hate Livingstone with the passion of a ten Ian Paisleys, and I hate myself for voting for him (twice); partly because he's Labour but partly because I think he's [grudgingly] done well for London. And he was right about PPP on the tube.

I've managed to confuse myself so I'm off to rage for a bit.

Cows, blondes, and the Strange Death of Conservative Britain

I am happy to report that Today continued with its "Bovine Week" theme this morning by highlighting the plight of a sacred cow in Wales. Ol' Daisy has caught something nasty apparently, and dem evil bureaucrats (booo! Hiss!) in DEFRA want her put down. But Daisy is a Sacred Cow and, argue the monks who tend her every desire, as such is never going to enter the food chain. I began the morning ablutions early today, so I wouldn't have to hear the familiar apoplectic poppings of Humpers demanding an Independent Inquiry(TM) into this statist outrage.

Speaking of outrage, Iain Dale has reached almost Humpers levels of fury at the news that a fruity blonde BBC presenter can't be referred to as a "guest editor" of the Sextator for which she occasionally writes (more amusingly than some, it has to be said). Some would put this down to rather tedious semantics - kind of like the bag-carriers who insist you address them as Senior Special Advisor and Parliamentary Assistant to Joe McBackbenchshire MP. Dale and D'Ancona, however, see it as another example of BBC lefty Labour bias: let's storm the citadel of White City and take control of the rotten edifice! Whatever.

I've long since stopped buying the Sextator as both Bojo and the awful Rod Liddle set my teeth on edge, and everybody else who works there seems to have been selected on the basis of being mates with one of the above or blonde fruitiness, rather than writing ability. Recent examples:

Bojo: Cripes! There's been a bally fraud perpetrated on the chaps and chapesses of Blighty. Many of them voted for Blair because they loved him and thought he was a super chap. I was only saying the other day that Blair is good value now he's gone. We can use him to discredit the current Prime Minister by praising his predecessor in a manner we never felt called upon to do before, and claiming that Brown has no mandate, thus wilfully failing to understand the fact that in our democratic system we elect a party to rule not a leader. Damn straight, old boy!

One Of The Blonde Ones: Golly, I like sooooo remember the Labour landslide of 1997 because I was like, being blonde and fruity at the time as well as excelling in all my academic subjects. Because I am a precocious nymphette, I was obviously waaaaay too young to vote, but that didn't stop Bagehot himself telling me that I was destined to be the young and blonde political voice of my generation. Yes, really! I remember it well. I was at a super-duper exclusive cocktail party at the time wearing a simply ripping dress, and after he had commented that I was like sooooo clever and gorgeous and accomplished...oh yes where was I? Blair got elected that night as well. Apparently.

D'Ancona: Bloody cheek...biased BBC...what's wrong with adding another blonde fruity one to my staff without being told that I can't call her what I like (preferably "baby")...evil bureacrats...revenge soon...take out everyone...

Still, for those gents to whom the extensive array of pornography provided by the Westminster WHSmiths is off limits, the Speccie is still worth buying for the pictures.

And finally to some serious politics. I quite liked the idea of a mini Queens Speech and it was good to see a commitment to housebuilding, although I left the house this morning with the radio ragings of some bloke from the country who was afeared that the proles would start invading the picturesque commuter villages like the one where he's bought his three million pound pad...er...I mean the green belt.

Nice also to see David Cameron and the Tories really going for Brown on the West Lothian question yesterday in PMQs. The theory is that if they talk about breaking up the Union - and maybe even put pressure on to do so - then Brown's legitimacy (as a Scotsman) will be totally destroyed, thus placing the shiny faced posh one in prime position to win the trust of the British - I mean English - people.

Superb scenes from a desperate party who, for years, championed the cause of the Union in opposition to attempts to break it up, and were even called the Conservative and Unionist Party (until very recently, wasn't it?). Along with every other single principle that made the Tories distinguishable from a corpulent PR man's spent jism, this seems to have been jettisoned in a vain and vague hopethat the less than outstanding approval ratings for Cameron might improve.

They must be out of ideas if they are attemping to flush three hundred years of Conservative history down the swanny for the sake of the Boy Dave's image.

You can hear the mutterings from all over the Conservative enclaves on the Estate: "he'd better be worth it."

How Government Inquiries come to pass
by Comrade Muttley

This is applicable regardless of the hue of the Party in power.

Disaster strikes.

Opposition: We demand an inquiry!

Government: We're not keen, lessons have been learned etc...

Opposition: But we won't shut up till we get one.

Government: [sigh] Oh alright, let's ask a respected Freudian authority figure to take a look and report back quickly.

Opposition: None of that! We'll see your quick informal inquiry and raise you a full judicial inquiry under the 1922 Tribunals and Inquiries Act. And if you don't agree, then you must have something to hide....

Government: Oh bleedin' hell. That will take forever, and tie up Ministers indefinitely, cost a fortune and deliver no more answers than the process we suggested.

Opposition: We knew it! You're hiding something....

Government: OK, OK, you can have an inquiry. We suggest the Lord of Appeal in Ordinary Sir Reginald Hyphen Hyphen Massingberd-Blueblood to preside over it.

Opposition: [gasp!] But he once passed within a half mile of Cherie Blair! It's a fix, he's a crony!

Sir Reginald etc: I hereby report that Ministers dropped the ball with regard to this one...

Opposition: [snarl] But no calls for resignation! No calls for ritual disembowelment! Fix, Fix! We demand an inquiry into the inquiry, and a second inquiry into the original question to prove that the first inquiry got it wrong, which we already know anyway.

[the cycle repeats ad infinitum.....]

Mad World
Current affairs enters the realm of the surreal a full two weeks before the start of the silly season

Operating under the assumption made by Parkinson's Law - that in this era of 24 hour coverage, national and local concerns will expand to fit the time allocated to them - I was entertained by the Today Programme this morning.

Naughtie: Okay, so say we stop eating beef. The demand for cows will decrease and the methane emitted by their belching will be reduced over time. But what about the cows that are already alive, eh? They'll grow old and die over many years - burping and farting all the way - adding to the environmental crisis that we all face. How long does a cow live? How many burps does it do a day? Does the Government need to convene an Independent Inquiry(TM) to look into this issue? Why hasn't it done so before? We're a mere calf fart away from Armageddon, I tells ye!

Superb. But the insanity doesn't end there.

Depressingly, al-Quida have now promised to crack out the semtex in response to the decision made to give a bauble to a self-important buffoon. Frankly, I am of the opinion that in a free society we should honour who we damn well choose, but I am finding it difficult to channel Voltaire when the person who has come to symbolise the Fight For Free Speech is Salman bloody Rushdie. Maybe my lack of understanding of his literary offerings can be put down to my comprehensive school education (and the fact that Rushdie always looks insufferably smug), but he always struck me as the kind of person who couldn't write out a shopping list without using a thesaurus to make it look more interleckshual. Still, sometimes you can't choose your friends or your enemies, right?

Another one getting into the spirit of the silly season early is David Cameron who was described in another context by Tony McNulty yesterday as "prancing around". I like that description; the Boy Dave's attempt to distract attention from the fact that he's proposing benefit cuts to single mothers in order to give married Jeremys and Jocastas tax-breaks, by dancing around the podium like a low-rent Michael Flaherty was most entertaining. Less entertaining for the people who would be affected by this policy if the Conservatives ever got back in, but why should the Tories bother about them, eh? Most of them don't vote anyway.

Finally, we come to last nights Panorama on the failure of electronic tagging. I'd love to work as an investigative journalist: "yes, yes, that's interesting. Could you repeat what you just said loudly and clearly into this oversized comedy flower on my lapel?"

Whilst accepting that there is an issue with both the effectiveness of the technology and the way it is monitored, some of it was quite bizarre. What was almost comedic was the way in which Panorama interviewed a number of yoofs who had ripped off their tags who were outraged that The State hadn't hot-footed it round faster in order prevent them reoffending. Yes. Because free will is like soooooo twentieth century. The programme concluded with a shot of Jack Straw (the Minister for Justice) with the voice-over reminding us that he was the one, as Home Secretary, oversaw the introduction of tagging and is now the one implementing it in his new Ministerial capacity. Thus we are primed for the inevitable "off with his head!" style reportage over the summer when the widely predicted prisons crisis is upon us.

Ah well, time to get on. T'intern has just informed me that I'm wrong over Cameron's marriage proposals, when clearly I am right...now where did I put my semtex?

Confusion

Okay, so a shiny penny to the first person who can tell me what Woe Zilliams' latest Comment is Free word-salad is on about. I think she's talking about the size of Alistair Campbell's willy, but she could equally be making a case for a rethink on the Animal Welfare Act, such is the confusion created by her witterings.

Carry on Southall!
The Ealing Southall by-election

Sometimes I lose faith in politics. Sometimes I think that ambitious individuals within it become more important than what they profess to stand for. Sometimes I think that personal gain is the only aim of those who thirst for power, and sometimes I suspect that they would sacrifice their party for a more convenient vehicle for their greedy aspiration.

But then elections like Ealing Southall happen and you cannot help but think, "damn. At least there are people of principle left in the world."

Superb scenes.

We were always at war with Eurasia

Live Earth concerts are on today, comrades. Remember, this is the most important gathering of celebs and music lovers, er, I mean concerned members of the public demanding social change, since Coldplay last wore wristbands and sang "Yellow" in or