By Karen Fenessey

AS an educationalist, it is my solemn duty to defend the state of our children's stomachs. Therefore it is incumbent upon me to point at all of those who support universal free school meals and call them 'Joey'.

By Mervyn King
Governor of the Bank of England

SO I barrels into the back room of No 11 and that swivel-arsed sock-banger Darling is sitting there in his nappy as usual, and the Mad Jock is standing over him with a cosh, looking for all the world like he’s moved himself back in permanent. Cock. Thought I’d seen the last of him, the shitting twat muffer. 

Dispatches from Poppy Spalding

Friday: Beijing

This week finds me in the capital of China – somewhere I have dreamed of coming ever since the age of five when my parents bought me my first round of banana fritters.

Paul McCartney at the 1985 Ryder Cup

I WAS kind of, you know, playing around in me studio one day when I took a break to have a sandwich. I always think it's a good idea to have a sandwich at lunchtime, whereas some people okay, prefer a bowl of soup, but in those days Linda and myself were like, dead against the eating of soup.

By Karen Fenessey

WHO remembers the death of Mother Theresa? Did you even know she was dead? The reason people cannot remember the untimely passing of this mammoth Catholic in 1997 is because it was rudely eclipsed by the expiry of Lady Di and her Pakistani lover.

By Dr Henry Brubaker, inventor of the Large Hadron Collider

LET me begin by saying that, apart from the Wikipedia page about black holes, this may well be the last thing you will ever read.

Despatches from Poppy Spalding

THURSDAY: BALI

One of the greatest things about having a gap year is opening your mind to new ideas and ways of life. Some people might put outlandish labels on this kind of behaviour – like 'running off and joining a cult', but those people are just ignorant. Since embarking on my journey, I have never felt more focused than when I discovered God this week in Bali.

THE Olympics - what the fuck was that all about? Every morning, right, that Scottish bird off the telly would sit on a sofa telling us that we'd won a bronze medal in the women’s catapult and that everyone could now go to work with a big smile on their face - in retrospect I think she somehow mistook me for somebody who gives a fuck.