Crystal Palace to be rebuilt for £500m

No, I am not talking about Ian Holloway and the January transfer window, I am talking about the Crystal Palace  - as in 'burned down' fame. CP was a rather large greenhouse which was murder to keep clean that was erected in Hyde Park then unassembled before being reassembled in Sydenham.

When I was a little boy, couldn't have been much more that seven, my Pa put me on his knee and told me, 'Son, capitalism uses resources efficiently. You remember that boy and you'll have no trouble in life.' He was never any good with names.

This CP project will cost £500m of private money. Is that half a billion and all that fragile glass a wise use of resources? After all, look what happened last time.

So, while the private sector throws its money on the fire, the government either cannot afford to build houses or has some ethical excuse (such as £500m can be better spent). Say a bog standard Barratt house costs 30,000 to build - half a billion would get you over 15000 houses and keep all kinds of industries going - just think of all those crappers and kitchen unit door handles.

UK fails in Euro bid

Malmo: Despite its best efforts the UK, with its entry in last night's Eurovision Song Contest, Bonnie Tyler and 'Believe in Me', receiving 23 points, once again failed in its bid to come in last. The disappointing result means that the UK will have to compete in next year's event.

Malmo's Eurovision audience watches Bonnie Tyler last night

"Believe in Me" was up against tough competition for the last spot, which was eventually claimed by Ireland's entry - a ditty where, in spite of the sudden and catastophic end to our planet, "Love will Survive".

Oliver the Olivier

Would you believe it? The EU spokesman defending the ban on refillable olive oil dispensers in public eateries is called Oliver somethingorother. The only thing crazier than bringing in a law that such places can only have tamper proof bottles is passing the PR job onto someone called Oliver.

Better times

The real solution to these troubled economic times has arrived. It has not been provided by he government but the solution bears all the hallmarks of Conservative ethics and morality (they have none, and neither does this expanding industry). Television advertising is coming being dominated by this growth area. Among the commercials for desperate supermarkets, furniture stores, insurance companies and car manufacturers are the adverts that appeal to our most basic instinct: making money. Online, real time, in play betting is the way forward. For hundreds of years we have all tried to make money but this dirty, immoral activity has been disguised by the meaning of our labours - the worthiness of meaningful occupations or simply the hard work ethic even if it means working in a mine or a factory. But now that thin veneer of decency has worn away and the ugly brutal nihilistic ethic of no ethics is shining through. Betting - in the guise of an occasional flutter - has been, at best, thought of as a bit of fun on big race days such as The Grand National. This was the acceptable end of a spectrum that led to betting shops imprisoned behind blacked out windows where hardened myopic professional betters plied their trade. But now every other advert is for some betting site. This way forward is the link between the old industrial society that is has been dying since WW2 and the better times of the kind of society depicted in Bladerunner.

On Christmas Day in the morn-ing.

Christmas Day is all about surprises. The tradition started, so the story goes, with the awkward astonishment of a child being born without any hanky panky between the parents - the traditional way to start a family. The day has since become a day celebrating not only the miracle birth but also the economic miracle of  Christmas Shopping and the surprising yield of till totals in the Oxford Street stores on the previous Saturday.  But, of course, the surprise we all look forward to most is that of our kiddies when they have frantically ripped the paper wrapped round a popular toy as seen on television. At least that was what I thought until this morning. As an excited child, I used to wake early on the big day to search for a large football sock stuffed with rustling goodies that would be at the bottom of my bed somewhere. Today I was awoken early by the somewhat surprising cracks of thunder that followed flashes of brilliant electric white that lit up my flat like a Christmas tree. After another week of high tides inland, a week when the end of the world was nigh, the advent of an surprisingly unseasonal electrical storm, traditionally a feature conceived in the balmy hot weather of summer, has made me feel uneasy. I am used to the light drizzle and dank mild of Christmas but not rattling window pains. It isn't just me that should be experiencing feelings of disquiet. I hope it is the executives, board members and major shareholders of the big business that encourage voluminous CO2 emissions who are looking out of their Hadley Wood or Weybridge mansions over the saturated landscape and feel an uneasiness in pit of their stomachs. Something is up.

Brad Pitt is Chanel 5

I heard his voice; I shuddered with the gravitas - the deep resonance, the pauses, the inflections.  I reached for the phone and my credit card expecting to see heartbreaking images of poor people dying because of some easily treatable condition such as poverty. But no, Brad Pitt, in a fine example of bathos, is the new voice of Channel 5, sorry, Chanel - Shan - elle - French, you see. What a donut. He follows in the footsteps of Anthony Hopkins - one time co-star and now, it seems, mentor - in trashing a classy reputation by doing a TV commercial for some puerile bollocks.. I expect to see him on the next I Was A Celebrity Once Please Help Me.

Great gift ideas from Amazon this Christmas

Some great gifts from Amazon...

Make someone's Christmas that little bit special with some fantastic books about tax avoidance.