As we speak it looks as though the stupidest judge in the world is about to mitigate Oscar Pistolero's already slight 15-year sentence for murder on the grounds that he wasn't on his proper legs when he shot the bitch, that he cried afterwards and that the deceased's heartless parents had refused to meet him and listen to his self-pitying horsehit, which was all very difficult for him.
Yesterday, the FBI stopped short of giving President Trousers a medal for her misconduct, but it may yet happen, and perhaps Tony Blair might be the statesman to pin it on.
Tony, of course, in exile for his own protection, will be cleared of any serious wrongdoing by little Johnny Chilcott. Oh, processes will have been muddled, information misiterpreted and in fact many people share the blame, too many, really, for any one person to shoulder it all, even though that was the nature of his job description.
Lord Kinnock and Crooked Tess Jowell, among regiments of others, are pulling out all the stops to remove Jerry C and protect thier own places in history. No matter what they say, Kinnock will be remembered as no more that a vain, worthless jackanapes, a gobby Taffy and his doxy on the make; Jowell as a woman who claimed not to know how her mortgage was paid and subsequently pretended to separate from her criminal husband in order to keep he scabby arse at the cabinet table.
Y'know, right honourables.
On the bright side, the wordy failures of the FBI and Chilcott, as well as the crookedness of the Tory leadership elections, of Ken Clarke and of the parliamentarty labour party will only deepen the contempt in which ordinary people hold the Filthsters and validate further the recent vote on independence from EuroFilth.
On the whole, a good couple of days.