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26 July 2007 - The guardian www.guardian.co.uk
So we've now had four weeks with our new prime minister. How's it going? Well, half the country's under water, the postmen are striking and Jordan's had a new baby called Princess Tiáamii. Not looking very good so far, is it, Gordon? Must try harder. Gordon Brown's just no fun. The Tim Henman of politics is planning to review the drinking laws because of complaints about the social effects of 24-hour drinking. Apparently there has been an increase in crime between 6pm and 6am. What's Brown thinking of? I think there has been some mistake. This increase in crime can't be due to drinking - I've been shoplifting on two cans of Diet Coke; I don't need WKD. Some of the best shoplifters I know much prefer soft drinks.
It must be due to an increase in teenagers escaping through their bedroom windows while their parents are asleep. Brown should not review the drinking laws, but the parenting laws. He has also axed the Manchester supercasino and has proposed tightening the law on cannabis. I am devastated: drinking, gambling and drugs are the things that make me proud to be British.
I will be dismayed should Brown curb the drinking hours, because although I don't drink, I love watching people who do. There is no better entertainment than watching drunk girls at four in the morning rolling down back streets with kebab on their face and a G-string over their head. I occasionally envy my friends who drink excessively. They seem to sleep with more strangers, blank out more bad memories and frequently find dodgy shots of their cleavage posted on their mate's Facebook profile. "Do you sometimes see someone so ugly that you can't help imagine yourself in a sexual situation with them?" an inebriated young woman asked me in a bar a few nights ago. See? These are the kind of questions you ask strangers when you're drunk. I didn't want to disclose my own personal experience earlier in the day, when I saw a man in Tesco bending over the fish and poultry section who was about 102 years old, with reptile skin and a Brillo pad for hair, and who showed me his false teeth - both of them - when he smiled at me. I viewed this man not with pity or disgust but with lust and desire, but I didn't discuss this incident with the paralytic woman because I was sober, and with sobriety comes common sense.
The barometer of the success of a boozy night is how little can be remembered. I have friends who wake up in the morning and say: "I had a brilliant time last night. I can't remember what happened. Where did we go again? Who is the father of my child? Why is there falafel in my shoe?"
They claim a curry tastes better when you're drunk. Maybe I should get drunk before going round to my mum's house for dinner. I actually wanted to know what it feels like to have a hangover, so I banged my head on the bedroom floor, backcombed my hair and talked like a man. It was quite a lot of fun. I want to walk in zig-zags in the middle of a dual carriageway singing I Will Survive and attempt to seduce a bouncer by vomiting in the gutter.
Brown is trying to ruin our way of life with his radical ideals. He is turning this country into a mosque. I think he is working for the Taliban and wants to turn Britain into Afghanistan. What next? Will we have to leave our shoes outside before entering shops? And wash our elbows before going to the butchers? I wish he'd snorted a line of coke while he was at university. I think it would have made him a more rounded prime minister.
It seems that Worcestershire has turned into Bangladesh. My friends who live in Worcester have been hit by the floods. They are not too concerned, though, since they have friends in Dhaka who are sending them food parcels, clothing and a couple of Ikea lamps. No doubt all of this support for the flood victims in our quaint British towns will be followed up by a charity record, recorded in Urdu, from the two pop stars Bangladesh has. It will be titled Do They Know It's Summer?
The apocalyptic weather is another thing to add to our communal guilt about the state of the environment. All my friends in Islington will be panic-buying more organic yoghurt and ordering hessian bags on the internet, while still flying to Barcelona for minibreaks and picking up the kids from school in 4x4s.
I'll be spending more time at one of the understated champions of Fair Trade shopping - Primark. Never mind making you feel bad about buying clothes that have been made in a sweat shop; they make you buy clothes from a sweat shop: the conditions some of those Bangladeshi workers have to labour under are nothing compared with the hot, cramped conditions shoppers have to endure, with the stench of human sweat, hormones and desperation filling the air.
There is, of course, a solution. Stop having children. You can safely say the environment won't be damaged after you're gone. Soon humanity will die out and the earth can have a break. The monkeys can start all over again. Let's see if they can do a better job of it. Catherine Bennett is away.
Shazia watched How Gay Sex Changed the World on Channel 4: "If it wasn't for gay men, I wouldn't talk to men at all. I am scared of straight men, and with any luck gay men will be running the world soon." Shazia was going to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: "But I saw the size of it and realised I'd have to take a sabbatical."