Dearest Gentle Reader, this Sunday brings a triumvirate of delights that no fiction writer would dare invent: a resigned minister declares political catastrophe before luncheon, the Kingdom finishes last in Europe's grandest singing contest with a single Ukrainian point, and the Capital spends four and a half million pounds keeping itself from itself. Your devoted Author has observed it all - and found the absurdity quite inexhaustible.

Dearest Gentle Reader, this Saturday has delivered enough drama to furnish a full season of society intrigue - a Northern lord makes his boldest gambit yet for the very highest office, eleven foreign agitators find the Kingdom's doors most firmly shut against them, and a celebrated British institution discovers its aerial ambitions have rather literally crashed to earth. Your humble Author has been busy indeed.