It's now a month since Christmas and our 12 year old has watched The Matrix at least six times. Admittedly the film is supposed to be restricted to people aged 15 and above, but I don't understand the certification system in this country.
Collectivism is dead, executed by new Labour, as we know. But hark! Fresh stirrings in the undergrowth.
Woody Allen wants to move to London. He feels, according to a forthcoming biography, that his affair with his ex-lover's adopted teenage daughter didn't go down too well in America.
Stop and search is back. Well, not quite. We are three quarters of the way there. The police have invented something quite ridiculous - stop and talk. And then maybe, maybe not, the search.
I can't think what brought it on, but all week I've been imagining that I was a high-ranking government minister and was suddenly required to produce a coherent explanation for one or other of my past moral lapses.
The Blair government's resumption of arms sales to Indonesia ends an unreported hoax. The four-month "ban", supposedly in re-sponse to the renewed repression in East Timor, was hardly a ban at all.
Jonathan Aitken may have been studying the Bible in the nick, but as homecomings went, his did not exactly follow the script of the parable: no jubilant rejoicing, no killing of the fatted calf.
In the upper reaches of the Treasury a particularly maladroit form of words is known as "a Holmes". This has nothing to do with the Home Office computer of the same name, but with Tony Blair's host in Portugal over the New Year holiday, the ambassador in Lisbon, John Holmes.
There is a stampede to the door of the comedian Ali G. An anti-racist clutch of black comedians have deemed him racist.
Try as we might we simply couldn't get Claudia off cocaine.
Have you heard about "clean slate syndrome"? It is - reputedly - a new psychotherapeutic term invented to deal with the tendency for married people to respond to the onset of the "new millennium" by getting divorced.
For Americans, summer camp is a rite of passage.
I entered the holiday period on top of the world. The stipendiary magistrate at Camberwell court saw to that.
The recent announcement by the British government that it is to "cancel third world debt" was a propaganda triumph. What a joy, sang the Guardian. Debt forgiveness, said Bob Geldof, was an "instinct" that was "deeply rooted" in Tony Blair's background.
After Geoff had taken control and persuaded the rest of the party that there was about as much chance of getting an ambulance over to Muswell Hill five minutes before midnight on Millennium Eve as there was of finding some decent alternative to Gaby Roslin on the box, they decided that the only
There were some very impressive answers to my Christmas quiz, which just demonstrated once more that my readers are more intelligent than I am. Here are the answers:
This summer I was sitting by a campfire when one of my companions said that there was a red squirrel on the trunk of the oak tree by the edge of the clearing. I couldn't see it. That was because the squirrel was on the far side of the trunk.
Trevor Phillips, on that rough road to the deputy mayoralty of London, has just hit a troubled patch.
All this millennium nonsense was designed, I feel, to show me up. Yes, I take it very personally - it has all been done to expose me as a terribly superficial person with some sort of attention deficit disorder. I can barely remember what happened last week, never mind 1,000 years ago.
It was supposed to be a Christmas drinks party for my department at the BBC, but after a mere five rounds at the Yorkshire Grey some people were already sagging.
Wherever Tony Blair goes to church on Christmas Day, you may be sure that the setting is appropriately, and unmistakably, Christian.
I'm fed up with the prejudice I encounter every day. The snide asides, the jokes, the condescension. I am the victim of the one kind of bigotry that our society sanctions - bias against Christians.
Even though it sent the headboard crashing to the floor I finally managed to manoeuvre the bed a good three feet nearer to the window and rearrange the duvet and the pillows so that later on that night I'd be able to sleep with my head towards the sea and hear the familiar screeching of the shal
New baby notwithstanding, life is not exactly plain sailing in Downing Street. Bill Bush, former head of political research at the BBC, who perhaps unwisely accepted the new Labour shilling (or many thousands of them), is unhappy about his obscure new role as Tony Blair's adviser.
One of the incidental pleasures of December is the "International Books of the Year" feature in the Times Literary Supplement.
The Nigerian high commissioner requires that Channel 4 cancels Lagos Airport at once. The series gives the country a bad name, he says, at a time when it is eager to attract foreign investment.
Once the stupidest borough in London, it is now a model of Blairite enterprise for a new Britain. Th
The siege of the World Trade Organisation in Seattle shocked those who speak for western power.
A mother and a minister at 30, could she one day be chancellor in a Gordon Brown government? Yvette
I feel about as sorry for Mary Archer as I do for Hillary Clinton and Christine Hamilton - that is, not a bit. All the rubbish that has been spouted about these women standing by their men is thoroughly misguided.