I kid you not. Hilary Clinton, candidate for President of the United States, has an advantage over rivals. With the help of a 'psychic adviser' she held conversations with Eleanor Roosevelt and Mahatma Gandhi – two savvy politicos when they were alive all those years ago. By getting the drum direct from these two she trumped Reagan's wife who only consulted astrologers about the best time to launch political initiatives, and get horoscopes for Gorbachev and Co. It is not surprising that voter turn-outs are so low, what is surprising is that anyone votes at all.

With a sharpness usually only found in Junk Bond dealers, the Green Party have invented the variable donation. In letters to True Believers, Greens urge them to LEND the money for the election campaign. The letters say if the Greens candidate gets more than 4% of the vote the lender gets his money back, (paid by the taxpayer). What's more, since it was just a loan, not a donation, it does not have to be declared. “This ritual purification of any naughty donations is what I have been looking for years,” said Roger Bonkers, aspiring politician, smacking his lips, “I predict everyone will be doing it - I am.”

This day in history. In 1896 London was relieved to hear of the death of Jack the Gripper. Operating at night in the dismal London fogs, he would prowl the dark streets and wait for a lone male, usually one going home from a pub. He would stop him by asking for a match. When the unsuspecting man reached into his pocket, Jack the Gripper would strike low and hard with a clutch described as powerful as a Spear and Jackson vice. He would laugh insanely before disappearing into the foul London air. His end came when he struck at Emilio Caractacus, a castrati then performing at the London Hippodrome singing Pergolesi's “Stabat Mater”. Caractacus gave a scream in A# over top C which apparently shattered Jack the Gripper's eardrums and caused him to become disoriented. He then blundered into the path of a steamroller being illegally driven without a lantern.

Broulee. (Noun, common, brow – lee). The look given by a man, after being given detailed traffic directions, that shows (a)he is plastered, (b) hasn't understood a word, and (c) is unaware that he has a huge dark spot on his pants. “Mr. Darcy paused and noticed the broulee spreading on Wickham's face. With an impatient gesture, he whacked him with his cane.” (Pride and Prejudice – chapter 7)

Staff of 'Celebrity!', a glossy for royalty, T.V. starlets, and famine-struck models, are wondering what to make of the discovery that one of the articles they wrote was actually true. Though the editor scoffed it wouldn't happen again in a thousand years, journalists are not so sure. The science correspondent gave as his opinion, “If you get four monkeys spaced on acid, and give them typewriters, they will eventually come up with an article that could go straight into the National Enquirer.” Another said, “And it doesn't have to be monkeys. I once wrote an article that an anonymous close friend of Vladimir Putin was distressed by Vladimir's fondness for Russian Roulette. And incredibly it was true. He did have a close friend. Believe me, this could happen again.”