Dearest Gentle Reader, this Saturday finds the Kingdom in a state of most exquisite disorder - a prime minister bids farewell with suspicious self-congratulation, a World Cup match proposes to begin at an hour only owls and publicans consider civilised, and the Tartan Army continues its peculiar mission to crown every statue in the civilised world with a traffic cone. This Author has observations on all of it, and she does not intend to keep them to herself.

Dearest Gentle Reader, a Sunday this warm ought by rights to be peaceful - yet This Author's pen has not rested a moment, for the day brings a judge whose reasoning defies all decency, a border system that managed to grind half the Kingdom to a halt without even switching on its machines, and a spy who has arrived not in a cinema but in a gaming parlour, stripped of his licence and apparently his experience. Pull your fan close and read on - the shade, at least, is merciful.

Dearest Gentle Reader, this Saturday has delivered independence, invasion, and interplanetary intrigue in such rapid succession that This Author's quill has scarcely had time to dry. From the triumphant shores of North Britain to the rather less triumphant shores of the English Channel, the day's affairs are nothing short of extraordinary - and that is before one even glances skyward.