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.
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.
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
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.
I looked around the other day and realised that encouragement had gone. Remember encouragement?
MPs keep looking for signs of tension in Tony Blair, and some are now convinced that he is feeling the strain. At a hitherto-undisclosed meeting in his room in the Commons, the great helmsman was not at his most self-assured.
Everyone should begin the year 2000 with a project. (Incidentally, one of the many irritations about it becoming 2000 is that you have to keep saying "the year 2000" because it doesn't sound like a year. You never had to say "the year 1995", did you?
I read a report somewhere in the national press that young black men graduate from mugging to armed robbery, mainly of betting shops.
A mother and a minister at 30, could she one day be chancellor in a Gordon Brown government? Yvette
Steve Bell's Guardian cartoon of Ken Livingstone disporting himself before Tony Blair while Blairite functionaries, their faces as death masks, shove a red rose up his rear, was all that needed to be said.
According to the Mirror, the most popular weekly journal in Trinidad and Tobago, the prime minister of that country, Basdeo Panday, recently addressed a huge crowd at a gathering to celebrate the Diwali festival. (More than half of Trinidad's population originated in India.)
The boy wonder's republican tract dazzled the <em>Sun</em> - but has anyone actually read it?
After years of uncertainty about the exact status I enjoy in the world of public speaking, it is vaguely gratifying to know that I may now scientifically regard myself as "fairly satisfactory".
Let's be a bit serious just for a moment. The royal baby is welcome. Bringing the next generation into the world is our greatest responsibility - and joy. But let's not get carried away with it, either.
Ten am. 12st 8lb, alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, calories 357 (according to the outside of the porridge packet).
Don't worry. This isn't going to be another Bridget Jones parody. More a howl of pain.
After Lord Byron's death, his old lawyer wrote to a mutual friend telling him a "singular fact" about Byron's life which was "scarcely fit for narration".
Frank Dobson's campaign for mayor of London is not going well. A summer poll showed him lagging behind his opponents in terms of his "recognition factor". A piece in London's Evening Standard revealed that his campaign had used official Labour Party premises and money.
I was absolutely flabbergasted by an article written by Denis O'Connor, assistant commissioner of Metropolitan Police, in the London Evening Standard. O'Connor is a fine man, a clear thinker and an asset to modern policing. There is none better.
The people's game has become the acid test of political virtue, the passport to a cabinet post, the
Just when I thought that my recent visits to the osteopath had got my body back into working order for the long winter, I find myself sitting on a stool in the kitchen at 3am wondering whether I'll ever again be able to manage a proper night's sleep.
Gerry Sutcliffe, the Labour whip and captain of the Commons football team, was mysteriously paged during the mayoralty fix by Jim Fitzpatrick MP, chairman of the London Labour Party. "Can't play today," the message ran.
Once hailed as a Tory prodigy, the shadow chancellor is now the invisible man of politics. Francis M
As we passed yet another anonymous hotel flying the familiar ten top tourist flags, my driver asked if I'd even been to Galway before.
Kosovo is today's slow news. Slow news is news that is ignored or minimised. It is a highly effective, though generally unrecognised, form of censorship in democracies.
I've been feeling intense rages recently, the kind that make you feel as if internal organs are haemorrhaging and the only way that you can stop them is by punching a wall. Of course, I don't actually punch a wall. That would hurt. But you know the feeling.