What a fine morning.
The sun has returned, after seven years of almost constant rain, to give the good citizens of England a hearty dose of vitamin D and keep the anaemia at bay for another week.
It really could be 2003 all over again as President Bush is all over the papers, telly and internets sites again, touting his latest work of fiction, the autobiography. Apparently there's nothing particularly surprising in it - torture is great, he thought about fucking up Iran and Syria, Tony Blairs was his bestest mate while Jaques Chirac was French and therefore evil.
However, i think the most interesting thing i have learned about Mr Bush is that his mother kept a foetus in a jar and showed it to him. I mean it was her foetus (she's not a weirdo or anything) and i suppose, given the option, most women would choose to keep a dead child in a jam jar or, perhaps, pickle jar depending on the size, for the specific purpose of thoroughly traumatising their teenage children in future years.
"One of these could be your brother George"
I know we have different traditions in the UK and Americaland but i hope i'm correct in assuming that if i were fortunate enough to receive an invite to a family home in the States i wouldn't suddenly be confronted with the sight of a miscarriage on the mantelpiece, some say hearth.
'Instant Coffee Baby' - The Wave Pictures