This isn’t news, it’s an amusement arcade.

While not wishing to bring the multi-warhead wrath of Erika the Red down on my head, I confess to finding the deportation thing involving Christopher Tappin both odd and amusing. We are back in the land of 1950s  faulty wiring here, in that Mr Tappin stands accused of selling the Iranians batteries for their missiles sorry, sorry, nuclear crockery project. If a couple of Duracells are the only things standing between Ahmadinnejhad and the irradiation of Israel, no wonder Benjamin Netanyahu is worried. But it really doesn’t make sense, does it?

First things first: all this talk of Britain rolling over to the US on extradition matters  kind of appeals to my dislike of a special relationship that isn’t special at all…..but it’s also bunk. They are far better at extraditing to us than vice versa. We turn down over half of theirs, and they fulfil over 80% of ours. And as the EU Court of Humans taking Liberties is happy to let him go, then Mr Tappin really must be a danger to humanity.

It’s just the batteries thing. I once sold a bicycle pump to an Iraqi: does this mean I should make good my escape with all speed? It can’t, surely, be all that hard for the Iranians to make their own batteries – even a specialist battery for the warhead on an intercontinental medical imaging sensor. I mean, there’s a plus, a minus, and some powdery stuff inbetween. It’s not rocket science is it, hah-hah-hah.

And of course it isn’t rocket science because the Iranians are not making rockets are they? Nooooo no no no, they’re renewing Tehran’s street-lighting and only making them underground at disguised sites because they don’t want the Americans to steal their secret humanitarian ideas. And in the highly unlikely event of it turning out that they were making weaponry down there a mile below the surface, then why shouldn’t they defend themselves against all those missiles being lobbed at them by Satanic Israel? Quite so.

It’s just that, um, having been brought to the negotiating table by America’s 500 megaton currency attacks, the Iranians got a bit shirty last Thursday when a UN inspectorate turned up and wanted to look inside the facility, how very dare they. So the inpectors went away, and the next day the UN stumbled upon aerial evidence of yet another nuclear DVD machine factory.

The thing is, if the Iranians really can’t make their own batteries, then don’t the words ‘sorcerer’s apprentice’ come to mind? Would you want Iran owning nuclear weapons when it’s clear they’d have trouble turning a torch on?

The UK media at the moment really are the genuine article when it comes to weapons of mass distraction. While the newshounds at the BBC are hunting for giant clams in Rochdale, even sillier things are occurring elsewhere. I do think at times the Left’s somewhat wooden slagging off of the Dacre Mail gets very tedious indeed, but the paper is rapidly becoming a caricature of itself….or Paul Dacre, I’m never entirely sure. This headline from the website today:

‘Who is this vile thug? Shocking CCTV images show the moment crazed commuter shoves woman, 23, onto Tube tracks’

You know, I’d be willing to bet that as her bonce hit the rails, the last thing on the young lady’s mind was her age. Why do we bloody care how many years she has on the clock? Anyway, the four baseless assumptions in the header are (1) he’s vile (2) he’s a thug (3) he’s crazed and (4) he’s a commuter. That’s quite good for the Mail: the number is often in double-figures. He could be a crazed vile commuting thug, or he could be an escapee from the KGB getting rid of his tail. Either way, there is actually a fifth assumption in the line, ‘shocking’. Nobody is shocked by this sort of thing any more in 2012, largely because the Mail runs something like it every day of the week.

But this next Mail effort is a classic. It’s the line that has everything for a story about nothing:

‘Australian who claims colleagues racially abused him by greeted him with ‘G’day sport’ takes case to European courts’

He’s an Aussie, so are they really so tough after all? Australia has a Labour Government, so just see how their spines are turning to jelly under the Ghastly Gillard! And look….he’s going to the time-wasting EU Court of Human Rights!! Oh, and the subed is illiterate.

Now you see, somebody with an iota of wit would’ve shoe-horned ‘Kangaroo Court’ in there somewhere, but such is beyond Dacre’s Dirty Dozen. And that’s odd, as the Mail’s shock-revelation-probe to show what a humbug Geoff Stevens, 49, is goes thuswise: the bloke has a Skippy the Kangaroo picture on his wall. 

The devious bastard. He does too: you can see it on the wall in this picture. It’s another triumph for the Dacreian College of Investigative Journalism.

Mr Stevens does look and sound like a pretty major-league plonker. He said that fellow colleagues constantly greeted him with ‘G’day Sport’, ‘Is your girlfriend called Sheila?’ and asked him to ‘Throw another shrimp on the barbie’, which – while it shows little in the way of invention – is hardly what I’d call racial abuse. And let’s face it, yes, Julia Gillard is an unfunny version of Dame Edna and the Aussies these days are even more pathetically Health & Safety obssessed than we are. But is this news?

Forty years ago, a story like that wouldn’t have made it into the Daily Sketch. But don’t let yourself be fooled into thinking that the de-braining of Britain ends at the tabloid divide: the Gallagher run Daily Telegraph gets more like the Sun every week. Nothing too unusual about that – Mr Gallagher used to be a keen hacker of Investigative Scoopfinder General in Dacreland – but it’s sad to see all the same. Today, in the Torygraph’s education section, God help us, is this toe-curling feature: Top Ten Haunted Universities.

Worse still, it’s a photo-feature. No big words for affirmatively-actioned students to struggle with, roight? It is the end.