Living where and how we do acts as a prophylactic, a spiritual condom that shields us from the reality of the ever more imaginative madness of mankind. Growing old in peace is not an unreasonable expectation yet it is becoming an increasingly rare luxury and one that we, here in La Moussiere, are, presently, lucky enough to enjoy. Donald and Boris, both fine examples of the perambulating gargoyle, are currently competing for Buffoon of the Year which competition, being that Daft Donald may soon gain control of the world’s greatest arsenal, may be the last of its kind. But, ignoring the desiccated rhetoric and big swinging dick posturing of Boris and Doris, I shall swiftly segue into the life and death of local marine molluscs which interests me more and which I refuse to spell with a “k”..madness lies that way, Mr Spellchec. Unlike the majority of food stuffs, molluscs retain their good looks right up to the moment when they enter that last great seaway, the alimentary canal, in which they gently transmogrify into that which will most certainly hit the fan if either Boris or Doris have their misguided (Boris) or insane (Doris) way. I mention this concern with appearance as I feel that lambs, pigs or beef cattle look so much more winsome, charming or handsome when frolicking, mud rolling or grazing than does the dismantled version of those same creatures when bloodily displayed in the car crash that is the butcher’s window. Mussels and clams look as sculpturally beautiful in their habitat as they do in the serving bowl and it may be said crayfish and lobsters most certainly gain in beauty after a bath in boiling water. The same cannot be said of liver or kidneys which clearly benefit from concealment within a handsome hide. However, this is just a matter of opinion as is the need to build a wall to stop Mexicans entering the US or the decision to wave a frayed flag for an even Greater illusion of a Great Britain than already exists in the minds of the far right in the deep South of England. It was interesting to note that, according to Radio 4 this morning, the cartoons in the Sunday newspapers ridiculed the blonde bombshells but there was no sign of any such disrespect to Mr. Murdoch and his fragrant bride.