Let us consider the current Chancellor of the Exchequer. Let us consider his snowy white hair and his freakishly black eyebrows.
Let us consider the fact the now Gordon Brown is Prime Minister, somebody must be doing his old job and ...oh... is that him?
Let us consider his name.
Alistair Darling.
Alistair. Darling.
And therein lies my confusion.
For my grandmother used to call me by that name - a sobriquet which is very dear to my heart - and I have years worth of birthday and Christmas cards with the greeting "Alistair Darling" to prove it.
There can be only one Alistair Darling, and I'm prepared to fight old caterpillar-brows for the honour.
So piss off Darling, I was using it first. Change your name to "Lance", or something.
On a Thursday vote-o
Whilst this site remains on a war footing, it is my patriotic duty to strictly ration this week's Thursday Vote-o whilst those Belgian curs continue to threaten our very way of life.
There's a certain cinematic masterpiece on the electric telly this weekend, so, not wanting to prod you in any particular direction at all, the vote is as follows:
* A Tale of Mirth and Woe of my choice, which will contain neither sick nor poo, but will instead feature an intimately photographed record of Ann Noreen Widdecombe's first Brazilian wax
* Condensed Movies: The Return of the Jedi with added sex, lust and a lightly-oiled Kate Humble in a pork sabre battle with Nigella Lawson
Just follow your heart, dear reader. Nations will rise and fall on your decision.
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