Libellious

Right, this sounds unfathomably sad and nerdy, but I'm really looking forward to the return of Question Time this week. It has the biting political comment of Newsnight but with often more exciting debates, plus the fact that, since they aren't scared off by the presence of newshound bruiser Jeremy Paxman, it attracts better political heavyweights. The highlight will undoubtably be the episode in which Nick Griffin, diabolical leader of neo-fascist thuggery the British National Party, wets his pants on live television from pure excitement. If he doesen't encounter a case of incontinence on the tellybox, at the least, he'll shout some very entertaining lies that resemble the script from a certain Little Britain sketch.

On the subject of idiots, I noticed in the in the Manchester Derby on Sunday that Craig Bellamy seems to be aiming for the recently-paroled look with tattoos all the way up his arm. Classic style, there. Later, true to form, he punched a fan. What a lovely man! What a brilliant role model! Of course, this incident graced the front page of the red tops this morning - glancing through the headlines whilst looking for chocolate I was bemused to find Diana gracing the third Express cover since last week. Is there any wonder for the decline in Fleet Street? The woman's been gone for ten years, and they're still going on about conspiracy theories: "She was abducted by Icelandic accountants!". It's not like there isn't any other news, and I don't really believe that anyone is interested or even whipped into the puritanical righteous fury the tabloids adore to trigger.

My paper of choice, The Guardian, refuses to try much harder. It doesen't publish barside speculation about Why All The Foreigners Take Our Jobs (maybe it's because they're at work, and not in the pub?), but it still doesen't do enough proper news. Polly Toynbee does constistently excellent political analysis, partly because she's the only voice shouting on Labour's side - and everything is served with a side order of black humour. But you do get the impression that they're just sitting back, watching everything go to hell with a knowing glint in their eyes. Maybe they're right. Anyway, the Mail was flaunting some bilge about councils welcoming illegal immigrants who eat children's souls (but only WHITE children, mind). What's the point? Why bother, when they're only providing ammunition for ultra-nationalist idiots like the EDL or the BNP? I understand the reasoning behind there being an agenda, I just don't understand the point in continuing the agenda.

It's not even as though racial scaremongering is part of current Conservative ideology, which is something most of the right-wing presshounds have a vested interest in. I guess moaning about it won't do a jot of difference though. There comes a point when you accept that most of the people in Britain are essentially right-wing in the sense that they are scared of change and want traditionality. In thirty years I expect I'll be clinging to my own outdated dogmas and resisting the emancipation of llamas or whatever obscure dystopian leglisation they'll be pushing in 2039. Until then, fingers crossed that Andrew Brons' cousin firebombs The Sun's offices or mangles his legs in an ironic fashion, so that the two paradoxical institutions implode simultaneously.

As a parting shot; I'm getting increasingly envious of writers superior to myself. I understand the words they use, and store them in the mental vernacular bank - but I don't access the database in order to use it in my writing. David Mitchell can be funny with a different word every second whilst I still use "like" too many times in a sentence. Maybe one day I'll be the vocabulary warlock and he'll be drowning in senility, mumbling that I spelt "oroborous" wrong.