A grizzled army officer told us: "If you don't want to be
buggered, lads, don't drop your trousers." Quite so  Went to a
cocktail party. Some little toadthrush suggested I was a sort of
spokesman for the Conservative Party. Peaceable cove though I
hope I am, I nearly decked him. So let us get this straight. I
am not, repeat not, a mouthpiece for Tory Headshed. The motive
behind my occasional fulminations is the reverse. It happens
that I simply cannot abide young Cheesygrin, or his wretched
"Project" or his "Unfinished Revolution". Now, you may say that
this is very naughty. Are we not all supposed to swoon when he
passes by? Well, if I have to stand there and watch the best
constitution in Europe torn to shreds, the best parliamentary
democracy treated like a whore, a great country being broken
(under the weasel-word "Regionalism") into fragments, the most
beautiful countryside I know of driven to destitution, and
standards in public life converted to a foetid midden, what am I
supposed to say? Whoopee? I su