As the fella says, just because the story has a bad guy doesn't mean you'll find a good guy, the story here being history.

He knew that putting your camera low in relation to your protagonists and then circling them really fast is box office DYNAMITE.

This is basically a 20cm thick steel plate after high energy protons were fired at it at CERN. They were bunched a 100 billion at a time, but still. Protons. I'd think I'd take my chances in space more than Switzerland (for more than one reason, come to think of it).

If I were patient I'd sit down and explain to her that no, the US doesn't need Venezuelan oil, but they would very much like to have *control* of it, as they have with other resources historically, but my rule is only be patient to someone you'd get in the same lift as.

Not a bad one for women, truth be told. Not as precise as 'do you write for the guardian/appear on new statesman podcasts', obviously.

If your opening position is, "My rubber stamp was ready and waiting, all you had to do was ask," then guess what: Your rubber stamp is worthless. Nobody cares. You have rendered yourself redundant.

When it comes time to sacrifice to fend off Farage in Britain, who do you think it is that will be compelled to choke down their own interests and objections, and eat shit for the greater good? Will it be them? No, it never is and it won’t be this time either.

Tinned beans? Not think about injuries as such, obviously. More about the nice smooth parabola describing its flight.

Oh, and the context is wrong, but you get the point.

Funnily enough, smug boomers had themselves something similar (difficult not to refer to PE: sorry).

Add to that the incontestable fact that the horizon is ALWAYS at their eye level, why wouldn't they believe life to be an endless process of vindication?

They can't: from their perspective, their political beliefs and sacred values have been rewarded by society with a string of well-remunerated consequence-free jobs. They see people being snippy about them on twittersky as basically christ on the cross being given a sponge soaked in vinegar to drink.

Even now, I can only follow the govt amendment of the Terrorism Act to cover Palestine Action thanks to my subscription to Barely Legal magazine.

State of me. Phoneboxiness.

Ta. I know it's round there somewhere. Should have recognised it for its pillarboxiness.

Isn't that pic on the right Mary Wollstonecraft's tomb?

In fact it's only a mirror if you recognise yourself in it: up until then, it's a representation of the ideal Tony Blair adviser and ladies' man.