Our Man in Newcastle.... (no, not the one who takes a pretty mean photo) but the one who is a bit of a Walter Mitty.

Also on the subject of photographs... Our Man in the Occupied Country has become a reluctant Christmas postie and has been snapping away.

Why we should support Democracy in Action in Venezuela.

I woke in the middle of the night and was unable to get back to sleep so I got stuck in to James Lee Burke's The Tin Roof Blowdown. I'm a sucker for Burke's Robicheaux novels set in New Orleans, and this one set against the background of Hurricane Katrina looks like one of the best of the lot.

So, with that, it's off to the Labour Friends of Seachlight weekend which should involve a bit of work in Tipton for the by-election where Labour are challenging the fascists for one of their seats on Sandwell Council before an evening watching Martin's lads take on the Gunners... which the idiot Lawrenson has tried to ruin by suggesting we'll get a point.

Finally, related to nothing in particular, I was at a public meeting a month or so ago when the police were talking about having resolved an issue of prostitution in one neighbourhood. "No, that's not true" said one elderly lady "they are just taking them up the back passage now." We all sat there quite unable to respond and a chap from Grounds Maintenance next to me whispered... "and I think they charge extra for that." Brilliant!