‘I really, really hate America,’ I thought to myself today while out listening to Queens of the Stone Age on my new iPod. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got and when I got home I had to have a shot of Bulleit bourbon to calm down.

Unfortunately, the murderous hate stayed with me. It quite ruined my attempts to enjoy the Terry Gilliam DVD I had been looking forward to watching.

How can I sate this lustful hate? How can a man, dressed in nothing but denims, etnies and Scarface T-shirt, who hates America and all it stands for, release the seed of anti-Americanism that is pent up inside him?

Ah, that’s better. Sledgehammer Left-wing wank fantasies funded by Tories. Is there anything sweeter? This one’s a two boxes of Kleenex job.

This is a line I’ve used before, but still: If the cap fits, wear it. The thing is, if you were a milliner making caps for British America-haters, you’d be bust in a week. If only the same could be said of Tory propagandists flailing with their banjos at cows’ arses.

Elsewhere, George Galloway sleeps like a baby.