There I was, ready to start writing a blog entry about last week’s sad announcement that the much-loved Scottish novelist Iain Banks had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was unlikely to live to the end of the year; when this news came through:
I’m sure at the moment Banks is feeling some grim satisfaction in knowing that, poor though the outlook is for him, he’s at least managed to outlive the auld monster.
Here are a few musical tracks that may be appropriate today:
However, Tony Blair — whom I understand was grown in a laboratory in 1990 from genetic material harvested from a boil on Margaret Thatcher’s right buttock — is still with us. So here is an additional song, especially for him.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m away to the pub.