So, they got another Gaddafi. I say “they” without knowing exactly who “they” are. The force opposed to the Colonel’s way of running things seems like a very broad church, united only by his repression. Tribalism demands that now the ruling family no longer rules, unity will dissolve and all the bits will start fighting each other. Its what happens. We did it for hundreds of years.

As for the manner of the Colonel’s death and subsequent international hand – wringing, well that’s got HYPOCRISY written all over it. No captured leaders ever got shot out of hand in Germany, Russia, Korea, Vietnam and any of the other conflicts “won” by the west did they ? {Ooops. Factual error. The U.S. lost in Vietnam didn’t they ?}

Meanwhile, back in Cameronland, you know, that place of golden horizons we’re all in together, greedy bankers are busy circumventing measures which might deprive them of dosh. Successfully too because [a] London is the leading world financial centre and unless we allow bankers to out-earn everybody else, they’ll all decamp to Switzerland or somewhere. Well not Switzerland because that’s full of overstuffed gnomes anyway, but you get my drift. And [b] I hear rumours that the UK’s coalition government is run by individuals not averse to the benefits of banking.

But enough of that depressing stuff. Its nearly Christmas ! Hooray ! Or not. The choice is yours. And if bits of your Christmas involve sitting around with folk you haven’t really got anything to talk to about, here’s a list of things they probably don’t know and will stimulate amusing debate.

Little Known Christmas Facts

1] 60s/70s singing ensembleThe Carpenters were named after Jesus’s Mum and Dad

2] Eskimos have no words for Christmas.

3] Couples who buy each other matching sweaters have a problem. Couples who buy each other matching woks are in even greater trouble.

4] After WW2 the names of Santa’s reindeer, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Donner, Blitzen undt Messerschmitt, were tactfully changed, with Rudolf replacing the latter. [but he was no good in a tight turn]

5] Eskimos don’t get presents

6] Consuming copious amounts of brussel sprouts, chestnut stuffing,mushy peas and Guinness can lead to family breakdown and a visit from the Fire Brigade

7] Pretending not to actually know ANYTHING will make Trivial Pursuit last half the time.

8] Instructions on how to talk with a silver spoon in your mouth appear of George Osborne’s website

9] Eskimos very rarely vote in X Factor.

10] Flopping back and saying, “Well, thank God that’s over!” is normal. You do not need counselling.

Well, first things first. That nice Mr Hislop has taken a gag. Whether it sees the light of day or not in the Eye rather depends on if I get lucky in the current cartoon competition in the Independent, because the cartoon in question – a slightly different version admittedly –was in the batch I sent to the Indy. And they’ve printed it. Doh ! We shall see. Realistically, I don’t think I’ll get the Indy slot. It really should go to somebody a lot younger than me. Somebody who doesn’t qualify for Meals on Wheels.

Elsewhere, in one of those far away places of which we know little but which by happy chance has oodles of oil, Colonel Gadaffi got killed. Whilst resisting arrest in a drainage pipe. Hmmmm. Along with countless innocent civilians who weren’t resisting. They merely lived in Libya.

Meanwhile Big Dave’s warded off a referendum. His lips get thinner by the hour. They’ve been set in a little hard pink line for quite a while now, especially during the recent Eurosummit where suggestions that Greece may well have told porkies to get into the Euroclub abound. And now Italy appears close to a financial snafu. At least Mr Papandreou looks solemn – even regretful. Not so Silvio Berlusconi – the chubby Italian guy who uses the same wig maker as Steven Segal. He does wonderful quotes. Here’s one from 2006. “I am the Jesus Christ of politics. I am a patient victim. I put up with everyone. I sacrifice myself for everyone. “ Insert your own expressions of disbelief here.

Anyway, in a bid to make myself as rich as Berlusconi and be able to afford undetectable hairpieces, I’m about to open a new “Paintings” section on this site. I say “I’m”. Of course, it won’t be me. It’ll be my long–suffering nephew Chris who has tried his damndest to enable me to do my own site – fiddling, but has reckoned without the fact that certain words like “upload” and “error” sap my will to live. The new section will display work, which like everything else on the site, is for sale.

I’ve been prompted to do this by the gallery exhibition I was promised being held back for a while, and because I’ve now got lots of paintings in quite a small house. So, they’ll all be up here soon. In the meantime, be warned, all the paintings are non-figurative, so if you don’t care for paintings where you can’t tell what it is, avoid the section at all costs. Or maybe chance a peek. You might like them. Or not. In which case you can say things like, “My dog could have done that !” Which, without thumbs, is not possible of course.

As usual this blog appears just as the dust’s settling. Sort of. There’s still quite a lot of it in Libya though, along with rockets, millions of AK47 rounds, snipers and air strikes. But news agencies tell us that its all over bar the………..well, bar what ? The prettily titled Arab Spring revolutions fill me with cynicism. Gaddafi is [was?] a bad man. But there are lots of those around the world, cruel tyrants who mistreat their own people, but we don’t go and bomb them or send in the SAS. So why Libya ? I envy anyone who can’t answer that, because they must be living in an information – free bubble somewhere.

We’re told that the devices and social networks which doubtless helped dislodge Middle Eastern despots – Blackberries and Farcebook, Twitter et al – will not be interfered with by the government despite them having played an important role in the recent riots and looting. I suppose that’s a good thing, mainly because said gadgets and networks – especially the networks – are used by folk who have nothing significant to say, aren’t criminals, aren’t anarchists, and don’t want to start a revolution. But they do like to tell each other boring things. Instantly. So much communication, so little information. And that’s the way the government wants it. They’re going to pursue looters and rioters for two years, pretending that the lawless outbreaks were unique to 2011. Which is nonsense. Looting, if not rioting, and a huge stolen goods regime flourished in many of our bombed cities during WW2. The fact is that presented with the opportunity of getting something for nothing, with little perceived personal risk, a significant proportion of any given community will steal things. Remember the container ship which ran aground on the south coast a few years back ? Ok, some people did in fact return stuff they’d appropriated, but I bet most didn’t. Some of its probably still doing the rounds on eBay.

And on the news today, reports that the government is “very concerned” about rising rates of obesity in the UK. There are proposals to tax fattening [fast] food. The stuff poor people eat. That’s fine for independently wealthy, slim – line power brokers like Cameron, Clegg and Osborne, but where does it leave Eric Pickles ?

The upside’s been a bit peculiar. Not bad, just peculiar. I may have ranted on about prices in the  Fine Art world, here and elsewhere. I say “may have”. I know damn well I have. Well, a mate of mine, a painter, told me of a new gallery quite close to where I live. So I sent the owner some photos of my paintings and a brief cv. Three weeks, no reply. Full of righteous indignation, we drove out to this new gallery – very nice – smoked glass, stainless steel, good stuff on the walls. And the owner was there. And he was reading my folder. Introductions over, he proceeded to remove the carpet from under me, saying he liked what he saw and could he see the paintings in the flesh asap. The following day we carted over 25 canvases of various size and Mr Galleryowner is going to show 23 of them. I was – still am – staggered. I’ve always painted, on and off down the years. Its a lot harder than cartooning and I’ve never had the nerve to offer it for public view. Until now. Anyway,
I got a lesson in pricing, too. He asked me what I expected to get per painting and laughed out loud at my estimate. Way too low. It turns out, according to him that the prices I suggested, though low, wouldn’t attract anybody because recessional conditions mean that somebody who might once have been able to afford say, £500 for a painting, cannot now afford it, so work is hoiked up to the next level and is aimed at richer folk.

So there’s a moral dilemma here I think. I honestly do not think that a painting of mine which I value at £500 is worth four times as much, even given the gallery’s cut. But at 67 and never been kissed in terms of having an exhibition in what is a very nice space, I would like to see my work on the walls. Might be the last chance I get. And I was reminded by Sheila that in the unlikely event that any sold, Mr Taxman would get a substantial slice. And I’m scared silly of the Taxman. Its a lot easier for Revenue and Customs to go after one-man-bands than it is for them to collar huge companies which can afford tax-avoidance lawyers. But its not happened yet. The Gallery might suddenly burn down. Or something. But rest assured, if it DOES happen, I’ll bore you to tears with the details.

In the meantime of course, all of this is put in its insignificant place by the monstrous actions of a right wing Norweigan extremist who believes that he is right; that what he did is justifiable. Much in the same way US drones blow up innocent civilians ? Discuss.

Its nearly July so, blogs being retrospective, this should be Juneblog really because July hasn’t happened yet, right ?[get on with it.Ed.]

The last month and most of May have been dominated by that dreadful company, British Telecom, and its singular inability to supply me with a reliable broadband connection. Four registered letters of complaint to the Director of Customer Services, one Mr Warren Buckley – make a note of that in case your BT broadband goes phut – have gone unanswered, although one of my letters was read back to me by a very helpful chap in India [BT call India “offshore”] I have, thanks to BT’s cunning circular helpline system, spoken to many of BT’s offshore people and all were polite and sure they could fix things. “Things” amount to one broken wire. MY WIRE. I was promised yesterday by a very sympathetic chap in Cardiff [presumably not offshore]that the broken wire is going to be fixed tomorrow. The broken wire has been known about by all hands – everybody from Cardiff to Mumbai – for weeks. The last Openreach engineer who came to see me agreed with the previous four. “The line’s dead mate”, he offered. “Might have to get an engineer who’s qualified to go down manholes on this.” He really did say that.

I feel for the offshore folk in India who probably take all the flak for BT’s rubbish service. They are pleasant people who give me the impression that they believe the promises they make will be fulfilled by people on the ground here in the UK. Har, har.
I went back to BT because BT own the wires and the company, Openreach, which fixes wires, thinking that faults would be picked up and sorted more quickly. Reasonable but wrong. Very, very wrong.

In between blood – pressure spikes, I’ve done a lot of work, getting ready to upload a shedload of new cartoons on to the Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation’s shiny new website. I say “getting ready” – actually I’m dreading it. All my colleagues tell me how easy it is. That’s always a bad sign…………………………