I suppose it's comforting in a way that despite the best efforts of his closest advisers (among whose hallowed ranks I number), Gordo does occasionally make a decision that is not entirely catatonic.
But I doubt whether his rejection of the Chief Quack's call to bump up the price of noble and sophisticated beverages like Red Square Reloaded or Buckfast Abbey had much to do with eradicating the quaint Olde English custom of drinking yourself into a pissy stupor in the doorway of the local One-Stop.
No, I suspect the pollsters just might have suggested to the First Lord of the Treasury that his ratings are shrinking faster than the ice caps and that he'd better not deprive his countrymen of their last pleasure, ie getting shitfaced and lairy on a Saturday. If a skinful induces a bit of permanent amnesia relating to the economy so much the better.
Talking of memory loss, the Lady Veronica QC was kind enough to draw my attention to last week's brand survey in this inscrutable publication. She's been picking up a good deal of litigation work from the fat bastards (a legal term) hell-bent on funding their craving for a dozen Krispy Kremes before breakfast by suing the arse off anyone with a big enough chemistry set to produce the emetic foodstuffs they crave. Consequently, my own legal beaver was more than a little interested in the success of the chocolate bar, fizzy drink and crisp makers that have a steely grip on the nation's blubbery throat.
You've got to hand it to the Great British Public. One whiff of recession and it's bollocks to the environment and healthy eating, I'm going to stuff my stupid face full of fizzy lard and be done with it.
Also abandoning his carefully thought out principles this week was Marc Bolan and his apparatchiks, who have brought in some daytime Z-list TV presenter on Sky Travel 3 for a commercial that's as cheap and cheerless as a Morrisons meat pie. Sir Ken would be proud.
But I doubt whether his rejection of the Chief Quack's call to bump up the price of noble and sophisticated beverages like Red Square Reloaded or Buckfast Abbey had much to do with eradicating the quaint Olde English custom of drinking yourself into a pissy stupor in the doorway of the local One-Stop.
No, I suspect the pollsters just might have suggested to the First Lord of the Treasury that his ratings are shrinking faster than the ice caps and that he'd better not deprive his countrymen of their last pleasure, ie getting shitfaced and lairy on a Saturday. If a skinful induces a bit of permanent amnesia relating to the economy so much the better.
Talking of memory loss, the Lady Veronica QC was kind enough to draw my attention to last week's brand survey in this inscrutable publication. She's been picking up a good deal of litigation work from the fat bastards (a legal term) hell-bent on funding their craving for a dozen Krispy Kremes before breakfast by suing the arse off anyone with a big enough chemistry set to produce the emetic foodstuffs they crave. Consequently, my own legal beaver was more than a little interested in the success of the chocolate bar, fizzy drink and crisp makers that have a steely grip on the nation's blubbery throat.
You've got to hand it to the Great British Public. One whiff of recession and it's bollocks to the environment and healthy eating, I'm going to stuff my stupid face full of fizzy lard and be done with it.
Also abandoning his carefully thought out principles this week was Marc Bolan and his apparatchiks, who have brought in some daytime Z-list TV presenter on Sky Travel 3 for a commercial that's as cheap and cheerless as a Morrisons meat pie. Sir Ken would be proud.
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