Where the typewriter clipped

All is not lost. But, when the writing of Max Hastings starts to make sense, then a serious sense of perspective is needed.

Churchill's ghost has been seen around Westminster a fair bit over the past couple of weeks, drafted in by Mad Max's readership of swivel-eyed twunts to give power to Dave's elbow in his great stand against the Brussels bureaucrats. Yet (having found myself irresistibly drawn to the Daily Hitler in the cafe) I noted that Max quoted him in support of another - opposing - view of this farrago. Wars, Winnie's quote sort of went, were never won by evacuations, and god knows where we will go from here. People like Tim Montgomerie and Baron Freud are - instead of being locked up in padded cells - a part of the executive and their insane philosophy will ruin us all before long.

Just as Labour politicians have felt the need to drift to the centre (though in fact have ended up further to the right than their original adversaries) in order to feel themselves electable, so Cameron and his pals have so far tempered the worst excesses of their true agenda to gain power. But now the objective has been achieved, and now that we all seem to be swallowing this nonsense about balancing budgets and cutting deficits, they can really let rip. Are you living in a house with a spare room whilst receiving housing benefit? Then you will have to put up or shut up. I do wonder how many rooms there are in Lord Freud's home, but I would guess that he probably has more bathrooms than you could shake a stick at, and I could reasonably safely hazard that there hasn't been the full tax payment made against his property or properties.

Are you suffering from cancer, perhaps undergoing chemotherapy? Clearly, this means (!) that you are fit for work, even if there is either a) no work to be had or b) such work as there is is so badly paid that you live in fear of losing your home, and dare not switch on your heating because it is unaffordable. So we stagger from one insane and evil initiative to another, while the lifeblood pumps out of the economy day by day. Tim Montgomerie thinks that this is compassionate Conservatism, and everyone inside the House of Commons is playing some mad game which bears no relationship to reality in the slightest. Perhaps, muses Max, 'twas ever thus, and the only difference now is that it is televised.

I cannot even offer succour from the gift that keeps on giving up in Beswick. Despite a win against the Bayern Munich C Team, we are out of the 'lucrative' Champions League (these days, success in sport - like everything else it seems - is measured in monetary terms) and as I feared suffered defeat at the horrible Stamford Bridge to bring the Rags to within 2 points of us. The only redeeming factor is that they will be joining us on our Thursday evening sojourns across the decaying continent of Europa. Onward with the Project, comrades! Fear not the doubters! City have protection from the Man at Number 10.