Dear reader, it is January. It is raining. The Tories are still in power and (your sympathy please) the only thing scribbled in my 2011 diary thus far is an appointment at the Job Centre. In addition, I have accidentally caught part of Chris Evans’ Famous and Fearless EVERY TIME IT HAS BEEN ON TELLY! Oh unholy Universe, are there no depths to will you will not stoop? Will this blighted nation never be cheerful again? Call me paranoid, call me insane, but I’m becoming increasingly convinced that a certain Mr Clegg must’ve made some kind of pact with old Lucifer himself in his search for power and glory (phnarrr). How else could one possibly explain the existence of this:
Conrad knew nothing of horror, Marlowe knew nothing of Hell. Her hair! His hair! I was sent by my Father investigate the cost of purchasing some of this Faustian tat (his wife is American) and upon finding it promptly laughed out loud for a full half hour. We are surely doomed.
On a brighter note, in my hunt for commemorative china emblazoned with the puzzled fizzogs of future monarchs, I stumbled across a genuine treat from the people at Royal Doulton. Celebrating 100 years of Royal Albert china, they have released designs from throughout the 2oth Century, all wrapped up in hot pink, hatbox style packaging. Look at them, feel happy and, as the Universe implodes, have a cup of tea. We are British, after all.