Nicolas Sarkozy 'Angry at David Cameron Over Dwarf Jibe'*
THE SUNDAY TELEGRAPH: David Cameron has angered the French government by apparently mocking the diminutive height of Nicolas Sarkozy.

The Conservative leader is said to have made a remark about "hidden dwarfs" whilst discussing a photograph of himself and Mr Sarkozy, who is seven inches shorter than him.

The disclosure comes after it emerged that George Osborne, the shadow chancellor, also made a quip about the French president's stature at a conference hosted by The Spectator.

Mr Sarkozy, who is 5ft 5in, is understood to have made an official complaint to the British government after Mr Osborne made a show of removing a stool from behind the lectern at which he was about to speak and joked it was the "Sarkozy box". >>> | Sunday, March 14, 2010

*Tut, tut, Mr Cameron! Weren’t you taught better manners than this at Eton? Furthermore, you have just set back Anglo-French relations by a decade. – Mark

You Know It Makes Sense
THE SPECTATOR: If the NHS is ‘fair’, give me unfairness any day

Did I ever tell you about the time the National Health Service relieved me of my piles? It’s a painful story — and for many of you, no doubt, already far, far more information than you want. But I do think it goes a long way towards explaining our ongoing Eloi-like subservience to the great, slobbering, brutish NHS Morlock which we so rose-tintedly delude ourselves is still the ‘Envy of the World’.

Look, if you don’t want to read about piles (‘’roids’ if you’re American), I should skip on a few pars. The key thing to recognise is that from tiny beginnings, they mutate into an all-consuming misery. Enjoying a night in front of the TV? Yeah, but the piles! Having a relaxing bath? Yeah, but the piles! Fancy going riding? Eek! You can see why Napoleon — a fellow sufferer — felt compelled to conquer half the world. Anything to distract yourself from what’s going on down below.

So naturally when a surgeon relieves you of the buggers, you feel exceedingly grateful. I remember coming round after my op in my overstretched local hospital — King’s in south London — two or three years back, and thinking the thought that occurs to all British citizens at some time or another: ‘Gawd bless you NHS! You have saved my sorry arse!’

One reason for my gratitude was that the treatment was free. Gosh, I love being given expensive things for free, don’t you? I like it so much I think I’d almost rather be poor and get lots of free stuff than I would be rich and be able to afford anything I wanted. Free stuff — thanks, lovely Dan from Mongoose cricket bats — feels like a gift from God; proof that life isn’t quite as sucky and thankless and horribly unfair as you imagine. >>> James Delingpole | Wednesday, August 19, 2009