Blackpool put on its best October sunshine for the Tories, but they hadn't much else to smile about. Vast tracts of the Winter Gardens, packed with trade stands in previous years, were turned into coffee shops. The bars were virtually empty much of the day.
Clive James wrote that he gave up writing his Observer TV column when he started seeing the same ideas coming around and being acclaimed as original. Now it's not just a matter of ideas. Is it me, or are there more anniversaries than there used to be?
There are many soft delicate parts of your body that are horribly vulnerable to injury: eyeballs, eardrums, your own particular brand of genitalia, and that's without getting on to the internal organs. But there's something special about horrible things happening to teeth.
Sunday was a bleak day for women. And it was the media wot did it. When the Sunday Times published a list of the 500 most powerful people in Britain, it included only seven women among its top 100.
Sir Herman Ouseley leaves the Commission for Racial Equality shortly - probably at the end of January. He is less than pleased. Jack Straw, he says, does not view the modernisation of the 1976 Race Relations Act as a matter of urgency.
They never liked each other and had little in common. A lesson for Blair and Brown? The Major/Lamont
By the time you read you this I will be in Borneo. But don't take that as a threat.
Of course he wants him back. Tony Blair cannot wait to restore his little helper Peter Mandelson to the cabinet. Unfortunately, he is meeting resistance from the rest of his cardinals who were glad to see the back of him.
I'm getting ready to move into my own office.
I used to think I had the perfect system for winning at roulette. Many people believe they have perfect systems and they are all delusions, because, unless there is something wrong with the table, in the long run everybody loses except the management.
I want to say now that I have no intention of putting my name forward as a candidate for London mayor. The idea started on a television show.
It takes only a few months for a fairy tale to turn into a farce. In June, the nation was thrilled that the youngest of the Queen's children was finally getting himself hitched.
Last Wednesday night I spent two hours, sitting on a high stool in the Majestic Hotel, Harrogate, leering at women half my age.
During Australia's bicentenary in 1988, an editorial in Rupert Murdoch's Sun described Aborigines as "treacherous and brutal", a people without skills, arts or graces who would have wiped themselves out if left alone. This was illustrated by a stereotype of a savage.
When I was 11 or 12, I walked into my biology class and there on the blackboard, drawn in profile, was a scrotum and penis (in a flaccid state). Next to it was a diagram of the female reproductive system. Our biology teacher walked to the front and proceeded to describe what happens during sex.
Listen to the telephone call between two blue-rinsed ladies in the shires. Not their chat about the garden, or the church fete, or their giggling about Portillo. No, it's the goodbye that has you doing a double-take: "Love ya lots," they chirrup, before hanging up.
He is the French John Prescott, anti-euro, anti-market, not very pro-government. Jean-Pierre Chevene
With a new commissioner of the Metropolitan Police appointed, several commentators have taken the opportunity to voice their opinions on what should or should not be done.
Quite out of the blue, we are told that 4,000 Muslims, mostly young men, are in prisons in the UK. Not Asians, not Bangladeshis, not Pakistanis, please note, but Muslims. This is supposed to be new, surprising and alarming.
Whose fault is it that 12 year olds get pregnant? This is a multiple-choice question if ever I heard one. Tick one of the following answers. It's Margaret Thatcher's fault because she decimated industry, thus giving unemployed men little purpose in life except to impregnate children.
It all started with a perfectly innocent little chat before dinner about an academic colleague of mine from Teesside University who'd decided after much personal anguishing that he was a woman in a man's body and would therefore go ahead and arrange to have what he always referred to in a capita
I heard about the various celebrations surrounding John Peel's 60th birthday with something close to alarm.
In the latest volume of her autobiography, the writer Emma Tennant reminisces about her lusty affair with the late Poet Laureate Ted Hughes. In 1976, after a drink at a bar in Notting Hill, Hughes invited Tennant back to his lair in Tufnell Park, north London.
The hairdressing story rumbles along. Last week I told the tale of Mrs Howe going to a salon in Brixton, south London, to have her hair done, and the stylist making it plain that they did not entertain people with "your kind of hair".
Following the "moral crusade" in the Balkans, there were calls for heretics to apologise. It was reminiscent of the hysteria surrounding the death of Diana Spencer and, like the froth on a cappuccino, blew away once reality was restored.
Last Tuesday evening I realised with extreme alarm that although I was sitting as usual in my Posture-Wise chair, there was something about my attitude that might readily have been mistaken by a casual visitor for slumping. It was a frightening realisation.
Somebody once paid tribute to Shakespeare's Mark Antony by saying that he had drunk the "stale of horses", which sounds a bit dodgy, and also that he had eaten strange flesh that other men had died simply by looking at.
Carl Russo, the 42-year-old moustachioed chief executive of Cerent, is the newest billionaire spawned by the information age. Under his direction, an information technology outfit that was ailing last year has now been sold for £7 billion.
New Labour's lifestyle queen bids us forget the past, be Mediterranean and flaunt our emotions. Tric
About 12 years ago I happened to be working in Kingston, Jamaica, on a television documentary. Whenever I visited the Caribbean, I would purchase the daily newspaper and turn immediately to the death announcements.