Signs of the Times

Since I picked up a week's strip of "30p off the Times" coupons I've been taking advantage of the offer. Amidst the doom and gloom of the main paper was an insane story about a woman who poisoned a girl with salt. Apparently, she is believed to be suffering from something called "Münchausen’s syndrome by proxy", whatever the hell that means. Read the story and try getting your head 'round it, because I certainly couldn't. Then there was the story about the Pentagon's suggestion for a sort of stock market for terrorism predictions.

Thank god for T2.

In the suppliment to the Wednesday Times, I found a little gem within the HUMAN JUNGLE column by Jonathan Gornall, under the heading I ADMIT THAT I HATE: "BABY ON BOARD SIGNS"

I resent the implication that, without the stern caution of the impudent yellow diamond, my driving would be reckless. I also bridle that the implied notion that the life of something that only poos and pukes is of greater value than, say, mine.

he then sums up with

Memo to Halfords: I'm sure the rest of us would happily buy a sign declaring: "No baby on board: feel free to ram."

Great stuff.