This is going to be one of my occasional streams of consciousness tonight. Things have been chaotic for the last few days, on account of our new little best puppy in the World Coco having caught a particularly nasty sicky-virus. Poor little sausage, she has been looking up from her bed and blinking appealingly, as if to ask “Why are you not feeding me?” To which the answer is, “If we do that little pickle, you will honk up all over the bed – again – and then feel even worse”. Sadly, while we speak fluent terrier puppy, she doesn’t speak English.

I awoke this morning to find her back to biting hard on my fingers and running around encouragingly, and during the day she has gradually returned to 50% of normal – ie, yapping at the Dowager Empress Foxie, and jumping on middle dog Tiggs. Also she’s taken some chicken and rice. By tomorrow we will be back to something approaching normal. I can hardly wait for a joyous return to her eating my shoes.

Things are going well at The Slog’s single-handed, multiple-activist bid to bring the Evil Empire of Tesco back to the paths of righteousness. Not only has its share price fallen by 11.8%, the ‘Shop Tesco Tricks’ section of The Slog is getting mega-hits. We are walking into Tescos throughout Britain and looking staff squarely in the eye.

Some of the Slog’s Tescoteers are doing this at daybreak, others at nightfall. When you think about it, there’s something very odd indeed about the adjectives for day and night. Perhaps people fall over at night, and are then found to have broken something by the Ambulance services the following morning. But what gets broken at the start of every day? Biblical adherents would say “Our fast”, which is fair enough, except that daybreak isn’t called daybreakfast of cornflakes with banana slices.

This is but a minute peep into the mysteries of the English language. For example, for weeks now I’ve reading on broadsheet financial sites, ‘Debt Crisis Live’, but never a day passes without me wishing that the Debt Crisis was dead. Not just to save innocent people from all its nasty side-effects, but also because I’m sick of watching it die the slowest death in history. Like the debate about climate change, it will probably go on and on until the climate has changed irrevocably, but everyone was far too busy arguing to have noticed.

On the subject of climates changing, one thing that has gone forever is the tabloid front page showing 36-24-36 Mandy Keebord keeping cool in Trafalgar Square on the first day that UK temperatures rise about 24 degrees. People are so confused on the subject of climates now, that ‘Phew what a scorcher!” has been replaced by “Brrr – is this climate change?” All the old certainties are gone, and we are – all of us – looking for some new truth. (Cue BBC2 documentary showing young people in medium close-up, wandering about aimlessly in search of themselves).

Sadly, one of the things seemingly destined to be with us forever is the voyeuristic camera zooming on in mothers and fathers who have lost close relatives to a murder, hauled by Plod in front of the nation’s TV stations in order to undergo an ordeal for which they have no training, and as a result of which they can only wind up not only losing their dignity, but also looking profoundly ridiculous.

I watched such a couple (whose parents had been killed) on the BBCNews Channel tonight, and the wife was so distraught, her words were completely incomprehensible. The husband watched in a near-catatonic manner, eventually taking over until he too was overcome with grief. I am at a loss to know how exactly this helps the police. I’d love to see some figures about how many murder cases are solved because guilt-riddled killers come forward to give themselves up on the basis of blubbing relatives. But my problem is that any faith I have left in the crime-solving abilities of the boys in blue have been diluted so many times, they’re now almost homaeoepathic.

But I will close if I may on a more optimistic note. For those keen to tell us that nothing will ever change, and opposing the status quo is a waste of time, I offer you this quote from a Scottish Labour Party organiser, bemoaning the success of the SNP:

“We knew it was coming, but you have to understand just how bad things are up there. There’s no New Labour in Scotland, and there never has been. Until last year the attitude was ‘people here have always voted Labour, and they always will do’. Officers in the party thought they had a job for life. There was no effort to go out and recruit new talent. The party was stuck in a comfort zone. It was the worst kind of machine politics.”

Change is coming, and it will be accelerated by economic failure. Chin up folks: it ‘s going to be crap for a while, and then it’s going to get better and better:

‘All things must pass   –   everything is in transition   –   nothing lasts forever’