Truth is the first casualty of any war, and the current spat between Tesco and Asda (with itsy bitsy cameos for JS and Morrisons) is no exception. In this spirit, the Pumster bravely went over the top before you could say "bullshit". I think Darling Alistair was a tad surprised to find me waiting outside his study to claim a decisive role for DRIP in starting the phoney fracas. God knows what prompted this latest pissing match, but with El Gordo shaping up for a reshuffle I thought it as well to justify the existence of myself, Mrs Rolfe the tea lady and the ministerial Jags. I felt a little like Gavrilo Princip, who - as I hardly need remind the learned readers of this prominent organ - was the geezer who bumped off Archduke Ferdinand to cause a little local difficulty in 1914. Luckily, Darling is my Charlie and he, like the vacuous Wapping brigade, hasn't cottoned on that Tesco Tel's £270m equates to approximately 3p per fish finger or that "Goldfinger" Bond's "rollbacks" are exactly the type of warmed-over scrapings that go to fill his Extra Special offal pie. Part of me (my bowels) found it moving to see Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks weep for the downtrodden masses whose financial sorrows they aim to ease through slashing the price of truffles, but at least there was high comedy in the discomfort felt by the Ministry of Smug at Holborn as they haughtily claimed their offer was all about "quality". That's about £400 million of mixed message, I'd say, Justin. And wasn't there a bit of pathos in Morrisons' "me too" cuts later in the week? How much, Ken? The fog didn't lift when trading numbers from Tesco and JS failed to bedazzle. Listening to the spin from Cheshunt and Holborn you'd have thought they'd won a rollover, while the City hackerati saw it all as the end of civilisation. But you'll always get the truth here. Straight up.