Er, sorry about that

Had to pop off for a bit. Apologies to my regular reader for failing to make my excuses before leaving.

I must say, it was easing to the soul to be unaware of the doings of the Ruiner (copyright Stanislav) for ten days or so, communing with trees and mountains instead of venting the righteous anger in my soul.

But - dammit - the mad bastard Brown has survived my absence and is still carrying on his Great Work of Ruination.

Taking a quick look around the sphere last night, my breast swelled with a huge pride in my fellow bloggers who, as always, brought the good news from Aix to Ghent (no, that was me, yesterday... I am getting confused) where Pravda (of course) failed.

Heartfelt thanks to Guido and all who have posted this so widely. Not that one would be aware of such deliciousness were one reliant solely on Pravda for information. And thanks and appreciation to Dan Hannan for speaking up for, erm, me.

Pravda is still failing to give me information this morning, instead expending half a lifetime on the superannuated wannabe-revolutionary and - God help us - Vazoline fan, Jesse Jackson, currently infesting this benighted kingdom with his presence at your expense and mine. His nuggets of... something or other (i nearly mis-spoke myself and said wisdom)... are apparently germane to the BBC's mission to inculcate in the British people the correct 'values' in matters of political elections and positive discrimination as well as making us face up to our responsibility for internecine murder in black ghettos. (I have never ventured into a black ghetto but apparently - or maybe that should be therefore - I am as guilty as anyone. Fuck. Off.) It was stomach-churning hearing Jackson brown-nosing (Cut that out. Ed.) the appalling Vaz although it was most amusing hearing Evan Davies trying to keep a straight face and last out the slot as the predictable old pinko (is that right?) agitator droned on. And on. And on...

Last night when I arrived back I turned on the PM programme in the hope of hearing some news. Instead, I was was treated to an unusually long interview with a gentleman called Ishmael who has both 'learning difficulties' and strong views on how those who share his disability should be treated. It was, er , what's the word... illuminating. A real privilege, and I mean that most sincerely. And about three times as long as it needed to be. But what a bit of luck! It blocked about fifteen minutes of current affairs air-time which otherwise the BBC might have had to fill with, oh, you know. Current affairs.

Bastards.

But that Mervyn King! Didn't he do well! And perfect timing, eh? Just when Gordon was having to endure this:

Yeah, well. You know how it is. You can't have too much of a good thing. And you have to admit that speech was a very good thing.

Now, I wonder what all my favourite bloggers have been up to while my back was turned? I fear this may take a while...