At the same time, I am delighted to hear that the party I do support has conducted a thorough review of all its dealings with Russian oligarchs on their yachts and has found all allegations of impropriety to be entirely groundless. I trust this will be the end of the matter.

Of course it’s too late now. You just had to go flocking round Peston instead, didn’t you?

Peston my arse.

VOTE OBAMA/BIDEN!

VOTE MCCAIN/PALIN!

You can give a pig a big hairdo and a blue handbag and elect it leader of the Conservative Party: it’s still a pig.

Ever the opportunists, the Tories were quick to seize on the comment as an alleged slur on their leader, Mrs Thatcher. And despite Callaghan’s protestations that he’d used the pig as a metaphor for the opposition’s shameless policy recycling, the accusations stuck and Thatcher romped to victory just two months later.

And the rest, as they say, is history: Thatcher reigned for a thousand years, presiding over a slew of policies that would change the face of Britain forever: the outlawing of milk; the war with Denmark; the unilateral withdrawal from the Eurovision Song Contest; the invasion of Mars.

I trust the moral is clear, America: vote for the pig woman and you’re looking at no end of trouble.

Turns out that in September I offended a group of Icelandic fundamentalists with my cheap fisting gag. Icelandic fundamentalists are a lot like Islamic fundamentalists but with warmer coats and a fanatical hatred of Kerry Katona. They did some digging and found that I’d recently named my pet cat Björk and after that it was just non-stop hate mail, effigy burning, flaxen-haired trawlermen outside the house demanding my death – you know the sort of thing.

In a last-ditch attempt to placate them I renamed the cat Atomic Kitten and that’s when the shit really hit the fan. Should I have known about the Kerry Katona thing? In retrospect, yeah, perhaps I should. Call me naive if you like – I just thought it was a nice name for a cat. In the end I felt I had no option but to stage my own death, cash in on the life insurance, go to Panama and buy a couple of yachts. Honestly, it’s been a living nightmare.

But now I find myself back in the UK and I’ll say one thing for British prisons: they know how to keep a man safe from Icelandic fundamentalism. I could get used to it in here.

Just one final note for my next-door neighbour (whose identity is obviously best not revealed for her own sake): please tell Atomic Kitten I forgive her for all the trouble she’s caused and I’m not dead after all. And make sure you do it that way round: get her feeling guilty first and then hopefully you can slip the not dead thing in “under the radar” as it were. I know one day she’ll understand.

Took me a while to realise he was talking about fishing. Honestly, they should teach them to speak properly before they let them on the radio. I’m having trouble sleeping now.

I didn’t actually read the whole article, but I’m sure that’s the gist of it.

How we laughed indeed. A friend of a friend of mine once mispronounced the word Brustwurz (nipple) as Brustwurst (breast-sausage) – with hilarious results!

The man moves his buttocks and needs between 14 and 16 volts to do so, AC or DC.

- Caption for Sexy Lovers in Motion.

Other models include rutting deer, some immigrants getting rounded up by the cops, and Police Raid on a Brothel.

There we were thinking he was a bit of a dick, but for a 12-year-old he was actually quite mature.

It reminds me of the animation I once did of Wim Kok with an ocelot up his arse: I must dig it out some time. (At least I think that was the title.)

It’s the look of panic in those evil piggy little eyes. There’s no question, the guy’s touched cloth.

This Iraq thing must be worse than we thought.

Here’s the trailer so you can make up your own mind:

(There’s a YouTube video here that you won’t see on the RSS feed. View it on the website instead.)

It’s a shame. Some of my favourite comedies are from Germany, such as Stop! Oder Meine Mami Schiesst.

1. Colin Powell on Osama bin Laden?
2. Madeleine Albright on Kim Jong-Il?
3. Donald Rumsfeld on Saddam Hussein?
4. Paris Hilton on John Prescott?

Find out here.

Sometime you just have to take the rough with the smooth.

Photo: the red-eye to New York yesterday, so called because your eyes will go red and then fall out.

I would say more but my publicist has urged me not to before the book is out and I’ve been on a few chat shows.

Lead story: Scores seized from Baghdad office

Also in the news: Giant truffle snapped up for £85,000

Really puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? I mean, who wants to read about stolen sheet music when some Chinese lunatic has just spent the price of a new Jag on a fungus that looks like the Elephant Man’s head?

Get over yourselves, BBC.

United Nations by Photochiel.

Thank God we still have David Cameron otherwise all might truly be lost.