Leaving aside the obvious ethical arguments over government
lies spin during the build up to the Iraq slaughter war and the subsequent findings...or lack of them...in the Weapons of Mass Destruction department, the recent schoolboy tit-for-tit barney between Alison Alistar Campbell and the good old chinless Auntie Beeb has been an interesting one.
Two bloated, right wing institutions that for years have been the mainstay of that great party unelect the aristocracy, each a crutch to the other, now slogging it out for Channel 4 News.
You've got to laugh, haven't you?
In more halcyon times Herr Blair was always around, extending the licence fee regardless of better production values from the independents so that the Lords in charge of the BBC could, in return, continue to fill the minds of common plebs with royalist bullshit, keep a lid on Mandleson's anal activities and maintain the status quo of the pecking order where the germs know their place in servitude to their hierarchical betters.
And now this. One group of loathsome, lying twats name-calling another group of loathsome, lying twats. It had to happen sooner or later. Self servitude and hedonism at the expense of those less fortunate will always result in syphilis, or bankruptcy, or punch-ups in the ranks of those who believe themselves the most important...or hopefully much worse.
If I weren't so tired of the whole charade I'd probably laugh myself. But I need three stiff whiskeys and one not so stiff shirt collar first. And Wimbledon, now thoroughly lacking in British hopefuls, has once again ousted Robot Wars...still full of British winners...from its usual spot.
So to weekend, perchance to drink.