Oh. My. God.

And in The Guardian, no less.

And, apparently, no more. Please god, no more.

Car-crash lives: are they accident or conspiracy? Some lives are car crashes waiting to happen. Then the car crash does happen and the big question is: conspiracy or accident? It was a shocking breach of precedent so it had to be an accident. Mr Berlusconi… rarely moves without an airbag to protect him from dire consequences. If only Mr Mills had courted airbags instead of being one. The car he crashed while fleeing the press without cleaning his windscreen would have been spared…Ill-founded self-belief is the heartbeat of the car-crash life. Recklessness is the blood in its veins and its every breath gasps it’s not my fault

That’s right; there’s no period, no italics, nuttin’. I had no idea that the war had so severely hit the UK; rationing is back, and apparently being applied to punctuation as well as produce. The author then proceeds to drag in the brother of the Sultan of Brunei, some hapless veterinarian who had a meltdown last week, and Princess Diana. Tasteful. And totally, totally on-topic.

One glaring flaw in the British educational system is that it gives people a solid grounding in advanced literary technique. Unfortunately, this seems to act as some kind of encouragement to them, instead of a warning. If nobody has been able to make it work since the time of Cromwell, chances are that the person who can make it work is not you. It is certainly not Barbara Toner.

John Donne, we hardly knew ye.