Crime and punishment.

There are now signs down my road going away from the train station telling you to watch out because 'they want your pod', or that if you use your telephone someone is going to steal it. Bright colours, trendy language, approved by committee and down with the children, isn't it. I like that the police in conjunction with about seventeen public bodies have erected posters putting the onus on me to avoid crime rather than actually doing something about it. If I ever have the temerity to complain about getting mugged I'll probably be faced with "well, we did put up a sign to warn you". I wanted to make a phone call yesterday evening on the walk back to the house, so I crossed over. There aren't signs at all on that side of the road, and whilst it's far less picturesque it's clearly a lot safer.

It was interesting actually - on that journey home I was reading a newspaper over some lady's shoulder (mainly because I was stuck in that position and couldn't move my head too far without snogging some hirsute chap who positively screamed IT consultant) and there was one of those modish short interviews with Emma Bunton telling everyone how much weight she's lost since she popped a sprog. I've not picked up whether she's flogging anything or just keeping her hand in, but that's by-the-by. One of the erudite and insightful interrogations consisted of 'Madonna or Kylie?' Being the intellectual sexpot that she is and infinitely to her credit, she managed to come up with an answer longer than the question. What surprised me was the bit towards the end of the lengthy sentence where she plumped for Madonna (left). I'm assuming she didn't actually say that, unless choosing the moment to display an extraordinary prescience, as there was indeed a picture of Madonna to the left of the copy. What truly astounded me was the fact that Madonna has been at the top of her game for around 25 years now, she is in fact so famous that she doesn't even have need for a second name. I imagine you could probably send her a letter with a simple 'Madonna' on the envelope and it would swiftly be delivered to the nearest one of her seventeen houses. The only other people who would get that sort of treatment are Father Christmas and the Queen.

I'm not saying that London Lite is designed for idiots, but it's owned by the Daily Mail and has difficulty spelling its own name properly. I'm guessing most of the people wading through its incisive newsgathering for today's top 5 collection of must-have Spring heels would be able to spot Madonna in a crowded tabloid format without needing a signpost. Madonna (left) is more like Guy Ritchie's entry to a short story competition, it has no place in a newspaper that prides itself on dull celebrity drivel to get you the three minutes between Tube stops. Sometimes folks, I just despair.