A film? About me?

Ah yes, a classic work by Truffaut, Kissing Voles:

Sadly, not quite true. It translated as 'Stolen Kisses' - a voleur is a thief. The french for Vole is campagnol, which I rather like.

Fancy an Edinburgh kiss?

Apparently the Labour Party is going to campaign on Gordon Brown's hard man credentials. The new posters are certainly combative - I look forward to seeing them in every town.

In other news, a locket with a French inscription found in the remains of Shakespeare's Stratford home reveals that Shakespeare's mother was French (Ardennes, not Arden, as previously believed), and - most pleasing to your humble correspondent - the discovery that urban voles now outnumber rats in several of the UK's cities, including Stoke, Hull and Carlisle. I knew our time would come. 

In unrelated News, Sue has an April Fool joke.

Save me from extinction - all donations gratefully received

Yes: voles are recovering from your wanton carelessness and cruelty. Numbers have doubled recently (I can't embed this delightful video, unfortunately). I'm still endangered though, so any donations to either me, The Wildlife Trust for Birmingham and the Black Country, or The Watervole Project in London, which give special care to voles, will be gratefully received.

Meanwhile, Ireland have thrashed Bangladesh. Next up: India, later in the week. I'm off to nibble shoots now.

Roast pork

Hooray! Moran and Kirkbride are standing down at the next election. Next up is Blears: we should have a pyre burning outside her house and constant, threatening chanting. Piggy must die! (That's a literary allusion, not incitement to violence).

Update: Kirkbride is innocent. Well, no she isn't, but her heart's clearly in the right place: she's been

digging in plants to attract water voles