As I sit on my Chesterfield armchair in an Australian winter with my Islay single malt and watch the blazing fire - the flames dancing before my eyes, like eternal sirens to which I am drawn - I am wistful.
I have been thinking about the questions: is there a God? should I buy a Mustang?; will, for the love of said dubious God, Bruce Willis stop making Die Hard movies.
But there is the central question, and it's a simple one:
Why are people such total fuckwits?