Brothers, Sisters, Can't You See?

Indeed, they can.

Sacked from The Times and with nothing else to do in old age, Kammiknickers in a twist, this time amusing, if mildly annoying, people who had known me for years and who had either never heard of him, or, even better, had done so only from this site. If he does not know who George Galloway's closest ally in elected office in Great Britain is, then he needs to join the seven figure audience of The Mother of All Talk Shows, which regularly features that comrade.

Kamm never has needed to work, of course, but it is no surprise that in any case he no longer can. The wonder is that he lasted as long as he did. We who got the brains instead therefore know from our teens or earlier that we are going to keep them, either until the full-blown dotage to which we do seem to have a higher propensity, or to the very end. Of my generation, our anthem is Mis-Shapes by Pulp. The older Cocaine Socialism crowd, on the other hand, has reached the end of the line. As its successors among our contemporaries will soon enough.

I shall contest the seat containing Lanchester at the next General Election, and my literature will state that each and all of my opponents, by name, did not think that I was factually or morally guilty of any criminal charge that had ever been brought against me. If he does not like that, and since he is not without his own criticisms of the Starmer Leadership at a time when even John Rentoul is predicting a hung Parliament, then I challenge Oliver Kamm to contest this seat.