Back from the travels - very nice, thanks, apart from the Little Englander wankers cluttering up the place. More of them later, possibly.

Have, however, returned to chaos: family illness, financial armageddon and about a kerjillion emails (I really must unsubscribe from the insanely, worryingly prolific Reuter’s Carnage Alerts some time). If anyone’s emailed me, hold hard - I will get back to you eventually.

Plus - a comedy classic this - Gary the guinea pig turned up his toes while in the care of friends. We hardly knew him. Haven’t broken it to the kids yet - any past experience on this would be gratefully received. A memorial service is being held in his honour tomorrow. No flowers by request.

And remote blogging via Twitter. What was all that about? Bollocks, that’s what. Twitter, in short, is bobbins. I swear to God that contrary to appearances most of the posts were not made while I was drunk. Never again, on my oath.

(Twitter, that is, not drinking. Obviously).