I think I'm having a nervous breakdown!

Hello,
I'm not actually all that unhappy, in fact I'm quite perky but some very strange things have been happening over the last few days. I flick on the telly and find the death penalty has be reinstated and Garry Glitter has a fatal appointment with the noose. The last time I was that shocked was when I absent mindedly fell asleep in front of the telly only to wake up and see a fellow being hanged. It turned out it was Saddam Hussein but it was still a shock and quite upsetting at such an early hour. Apparently it had to be shown on telly in case the Iraqis thought we were pulling their leg -like the WMD prank we pulled a while back. As I was alone in a hotel in Rotterdam at the time I don't see why arrangements couldn't have been made not to broadcast to my room. I did not have so much as one sceptical Iraqi in my room and would have believed the news had it been conveyed in writing.

Anyway to return to our fallen leader, Mr Glitter it would appear that the whole programme was set in a parallel Britain and that he's in rude health and free to worry the nation's nursery schools of a morning. I don't hold with child molestation but you have to hand it to him he is the only rock star to ever truly outrage public morality. With regard to the programme they'd have been better fictionally hanging the Kray twins. I have noticed a strange love of the Krays amongst fans of hanging, it would have been interesting to see their reaction to that one.

As if the whole Glitter hanging business wasn't enough I then find myself on the same side of an argument as Councillor Terry Kelly and Gordon Brown. I refer of course to the current debacle over the PM's handwriting and spelling. I should of course declare that I have a certain empathy with this situation my failure to close O's has brought more than one member of the educational establishment to the brink of madness. You can tell looking at Brown he has crap handwriting, a messy desk and he forgets where he put things. Even as we speak he's probably standing in his kitchen gawping at a stapler wondering how the bloody hell it and he got there.

When Brown took over I can't say I was delighted but I drew a certain comfort from the fact that he looked like a man who, if questioned, could not account for the whereabouts of his tie collection, unlike his predecessor who looked like the sort of man who kept them in individual Tupperware boxes stacked in order of purchase.

There is also the matter of Brown being somewhat short sighted what with the unfortunate loss of an eye and deteriorating sight in the other. He probably can't see what's wrong with his handwriting. Literally.

The way The Sun are hyping this story up you'd think all was sweetness and light in Blighty, that everyone was happy with the government and we all thought Afghanistan was a spiffing adventure abroad for thrill seeking young lads. Good God! Unemployment is rampant, the army are in Afghanistan armed with peashooters fighting a pointless war in which we're going to be humped and in the midst of all this misery the government plan to go after the disabled and their carers again in their completely wrong headed attempt at welfare reform and Britain's most widely read newspaper is in a strop about the prime ministers handwriting.

The one thing The Sun could usefully do is call attention to the poor pay, poor accommodation and poor equipment of our armed forces. They could really go mad and question what in God's name we're doing out there. They could even question why so many ex-military are homeless or receiving such shocking physical and mental care in the community. They could do a lot of things, a lot of good populist easily understandable things but instead we are treated to the grotesque spectacle of a mother mad with grief lashing out at one of many right targets for the wrong reasons, exploited to sell a few rags for Rupert. The whole thing is quite shameful.

Cheerio