If I’d been stabbed at 11.15 am yesterday morning, a Bank Holiday in the UK, I would have gone to A&E and, after triage, eventually been treated. I’m not complaining; it’s a “free” service always under pressure.
I wonder if Pravda would publish such an extensive and sympathetic obituary of a Russian double agent? I think not and that is what George Blake didn’t understand.
Hitherto you have seen the former West London Magistrates’ Court from the south, protected by a modesty curtain erected by the demolition squad. Here is what it looks like from the east, from the wings, so to speak. There is a lot of rubble.
The Prime Minister no doubt is spending Christmas in Downing Street working on the Deal that needs to be approved next week by the House of Commons. It’s unclear when the Upper House gets its say. It is not the first time a Prime Minister has worked on Christmas Day.
Last year Paul Kent published This is jolly old Fame, an examination of PG Wodehouse’s early oeuvre, in which he pokes around to find the seeds that germinated into the glorious world Plum created.