Thanks to Guido, I spotted this, and a number of others are as well - Rachel, Iain Dale etc. (Oh the Blogsphere!). Check it out here
Seems Nanny is not pleased with us Chaps. Normally this would involves some stern words, and if we are lucky a little bit of light discipline....
No, Nanny's outgoing uberwonk doesn't like us bloggy types running his lot down. (Truth hurts, eh, old boy?)
So not only does Nanny want to run our lives, but she wants to control what we say amongst ourselves, lest we stir up and see things differently to the way she wants us to.
I do see his logic. If we can't say bad things about Nanny, then we will all think everything is perfect. In the same way that ghastly Bean Counter at No.11 keeps telling us we are living in paradise, so hand over more of our hard earned treasure.
No doubt, we would all be happier bloggers if we sent our entries through his machinery to make sure we are singing the praises of the workers utopia we find ourselves in?
It all sounds frightfully Soviet. It will be the wonders of productivity at Scottish tractor factories next. (As opposed to wonders of productivity of Scottish talking shop legislature machines)
I'm not easily riled, and more often than not see life through a dreamy haze of pipe tobacco and the fumes of fine Burgundy, but come on - what next? You are trying to control the seas around us, the air above our heads, and now the very thoughts in our heads. My dear old Granddad wasn't torpedoed three times so that blaggards like you could tell me what to think and say.
Normally us chaps simply stand for decent tailoring and the gentlemanly pursuits of sloth, intoxication and indulging our whims and muses. But as more and more of us pick up on this shocking behaviour and jot down our vitriolic scribblings is it just possible the national concsiousness might change?
Does this mean we are part of a movement?
How terribly 1968!
It sounds like the sort of movement a Chap can relate to - none of this mucking about with those vulgar marches, carrying crudely fashioned placards and all that hanging around trafalgar square waiting for Tony Benn to show up and ruin things.
No, This movement involves complete sedentary behaviour, and pouring one's bile from the comfort of the armchair. I applaud it, and I am personally delighted that even a minnow like me is a part of such a thing.
That nincompoop has made me clean forget my holiday dear reader. I shall return soon with tales of Burgundy - or 'How to get a French Cove to buy me a drink'. I promise.