And so the fire-fighters strike (sic...and tired of this bastardisation of our language to American New Speak) enters a new phase. The eight-day call out has sent shudders of panic through both the British government and the Military leaders. With Soldiers running round like headless chickens in an attempt to quell the rush of opportunist arsonists the troops, that were recently demanded (I'm sorry...requested) by George W. Bush to appear by his side in Iraq, will be severely depleted.

Well...at least something good's come out of all this then.

I'm all in favour of the fireman's strike now. It'll give the starving Iraqi peasants more chance of survival. (Not much of one, I admit, but one or two innocent farmers might live to shake their sticks at passing Harrier Jump Jets another day.) Unfortunately it'll also give the British army less of a chance against the American air-force. With fewer peasants to carpet bomb, the highly trained Top Guns in the American forces will need somewhere else to vent their recently developed weapons...again. Perhaps if our chaps wore big red crosses on their heads this time so they could be recognised as non-arabic then we wouldn't have the same murderous farce as in the Gulf War. Big red crosses on large white helmets...oh no...on second thoughts that won't work.

Other news...and last night two middle-aged women were discovered in Pilling (Lancashire) suffering from delusions of adolescance. Both were wearing 'Alice Cooper' T-Shirts and singing 'Schools Out' at the tops of their voices. Experts have put their behaviour down to 'something hormonal' and rumours of chemical contamination from Heysham have been ruled out.

And with that I'd better make myself scarce....why do I do these things? Must be my masochistic tendencies I suspect...add two points to last night's score and advance to Super Sexual Stud status.