Don't panic! (Oh. You weren't.) Here's the perfect last minute gift for your swivel-eyed wingnut buddy. And for mad old Polly Toynbee if by any chance you've forgotten to send her something this year.
No, I don't own shares in the Mash or shotdeadinthehead but am proud to say I wear this genius T-shirt. If I had the money I'd buy a million of them and give them away free, starting with you, dear reader.
And this is precisely the sort of lazy, knee-jerk, malign, beeboid, Fisk-Pilgerist 'campaigning journalism' which ensures that the Guardian retains the Prodicus Crap Hackery Award year after year, with the Indy the regular runner-up.
That piece at ConHome also provides a clue for any Amnesty officials who may be reading this (well, OK) as to why (among other, similar reasons) I tell your chuggers to piss off these days, whereas years ago you had a standing order.
Compliments of the season to commenter Jack Pershing at ConHome who inspired this blogpost.
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