It seems somehow appropriate that news of the death of President Reagan should have come on this of all weekends. The ceremonies in Normandy commemorate the sacrifice and bravery of allied soldiers in freeing Europe from an evil regime. Reagan did more than any other politician in the post-war world to do the same thing.

This weekend's papers are unique in my recollection. I haven't spotted a single cynical comment about the D-Day commemorations. I can't remember another event which has not prompted at least one commentator to take a contrarian view. Yesterday and today - nada.

But you can bet that by tomorrow some of the press will be full of sarcastic comments about Reagan. I don't compare for a second the sacrifices made. The D-day veterans risked their lives, each of them genuinely deserving of that over-used word, brave. Reagan was a politician who, although he was the victim of an attempted assassination, in theory risked no more than electoral defeat.

Those, however, who will soon be sneering about him - just as they did when he was in power - might care to think about the good that he did. Just as no one soldier was responsible for the Allied powers' victory in 1945, so no one politician brought about the collapse of the Soviet Union. But in the reckoning of those who helped freedom to prevail, Reagan stands at the very top. Truly, a great man.

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I'm back. The book's done, I've had a week (almost) off, and I'm now ready and willing to start proper posting again.

So, to begin with some links...

This is an excellent piece by the learned Victor Davis Hanson:

We do have a grave problem in this country, but it is not the plan for Iraq, the neoconservatives, or targeting Saddam. Face it: This present generation of leaders at home would never have made it to Normandy Beach. They would instead have called off the advance to hold hearings on Pearl Harbor, cast around blame for the Japanese internment, sued over the light armor and guns of Sherman tanks, apologized for bombing German civilians, and recalled General Eisenhower to Washington to explain the rough treatment of Axis prisoners.

(via Melanie Philips)

Meanwhile this piece by David Aaronovitch is a lovely piss-take of a 'Respect' meeting.

(BTW, isn't Respect the single most innapropriate name they could have chosen, given the lack of respect their world view implies for the people of Iraq, given their wish that Saddam was still in power and free to murder Iraqis?)

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I suffer from a disease. Every four or five years it spreads throughout the population; the last time that it was researched about three in five people were seen to be affected by it. Even at its least virulent, about one in four of the country has it. On Thursday new figures will show the extent of its current grip. The one thing we know with certainty already is that it is steadily in decline.

My disease is voting - a belief that, however unimportant or impossible the decision might seem, I have to exercise my vote. On Thursday I will be one of at most a quarter of the population who will bother. There is no one I want to vote for in either the Euro elections or the contest for Mayor of London, but because of a non-sequitur, I will none the less pick a party and vote for it. The non-sequitur is that I consider the right to vote to be a precious thing. But having that right and feeling the obligation to exercise it are two very different things. I have the right to stand for the council. I cannot, however, imagine ever submitting myself to such a thing. I am happy to leave it to others.

A mere 24 per cent of the electorate voted in the 1999 Euro elections. This year it may well be an even smaller proportion. You can already forecast the angst-ridden opinion pieces that will come next: what can we do to increase turnout; why are voters so disengaged; are the media to blame?

The truth, however, is taboo: that the lower the turnout, the better democracy is working. I have yet to read a convincing explanation as to why we should be worried about the poor turnout expected next week. If there is a reason to vote, people do. If there isn't, they don't.

In 1979, at a time when the future of the country really was in peril, 76 per cent voted. In 1997, when there was a genuine appetite to kick out the Conservatives, the figure was 71 per cent. In the two elections in 1974, the turnout was 79 per cent and 73 per cent. All four elections mattered, with fundamental issues at stake. Only 59 per cent voted in 2001 because Labour hadn't messed up and the Tories were still unelectable. People were essentially content. On Thursday, once again, they won't see the point of voting, so vote they won't.

In an age when opinion polls record the electorate's views on everything from the putative EU constitution to the winner of Big Brother, there is rarely even the need to use Micky Mouse elections such as this Thursday's for a protest vote. We know full well that this Government, of all governments, pays obsessive attention to daily opinion polls and responds obediently, if belatedly, to them.

Ignore the drivel that will follow polling day about "the political system" being at fault and single-issue politics replacing broad-church parties. There are any number of groups that are fielding candidates, whether they be shaded green, blue or red. The voting figures speak volumes about the allure of such single-issue politicians: pretty much zilch.

Take the Iraq war; Thursday's results will, according to George Galloway's rabble, reveal how the public are driven by contempt for Tony Blair's involvement. The polls suggest that Mr Galloway's party will be lucky to hit 1 per cent of the vote. So much for that theory.

If you want to vote on Thursday, fine. But if you can't see the point, you can be proud to have joined the majority.

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I have this morning had to delete a series of comments. I will not allow racist comments on this site. I will block (or manually delete) any commenter who posts racist comments. And I am not interested in debates as to what is or isn't racist. I will certainly not respond to emails from those commenters whom I have banned. This is my site and I have total editorial control. If you don't like that, tough. Go read someone else's blog and post your vile views there.

Like many other bloggers I am continually having to wonder if it's worth the hassle of allowing comments. At the moment I incline to believing it is. But I will have no hesitation in shutting down all comments if racists continue to post.

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Philip Hensher in today's Independent (no link I'm afraid as it's sub only):

In general terms, Big Brother, like a neo-coloial invading power, has assumed and asserted power wihtout inviting explicit consent. Sme consent has been granted by the initial lacl of resistance; they have agreed to enter the house, just as many Iraqis clearly thought this this was at any rate a means by which a hated regime could be deposed.

Consent, however, has not proved unlimited. By continuing to assert an arbitrary, unnegotiated control over the lives of subjects, the ruling power has rapidly eroded its plausibility....When Big Brother commands Kitten to come to the diary room immediately, or demands the immediate return of the empty suitcases, the refusal immediately reveals the fragility on which arbitrary, assertive power rests.

I suppose you could call this an ingeneous comparison. Or you could say that by writing such hilarious gibberish, Philip Hensher immediately reveals the fragility of his faculties.

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This is what's known as a dilemma.

Can't say I'm jumping for joy at the appointment of Jacques Santini as manager of the greatest team the world has ever known, but he does seem like a good coach. I hope I'm wrong, but I fear the current phase of hiring only managers with a foreign name is based more on trendiness than sense. The Gooners aren't - grrrrr - as successful as they are because they're managed by a Frenchman, but because they're managed by one of the greatest managers in history.

Anyway, the dilemma: Do I hope that the French win the European Championships and that Spurs thus have a manager who has won an international championship?

Or do I hope for what, until yesterday, I was - like all Englishmen - firmly wishing: that they collapse in the first round because they are, well, French, and with the lovely side effect of ruining the morale of some of Arsenal's best players?

As if it's not a torment enought supporting the Lillywhites, now they give us something else to stress over.

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Take the quiz: "Which American City Are You?"

New York
You're competitive, you like to take it straight to the fight. You gotta have it all or die trying.

You bet.

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Brilliant speech by Alan Dershowitz on Israel and anti-Semitism. Read the whole thing.

(via Melanie Phillips.)

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To those of you who have come here via The Guardian, I would just like to point out that my last horse, Spring Dawn, has been sold to go hunting. That's fox hunting.

Oh well, it was fun having you visit. Cheerio, Guardian readers.

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I have hit hitherto unimaginable heights: this is now the official Guardian Diary Website of the Month.

I would like to thank my mother, my father, my sister, my brother-in-law, my nephews, all my other relatives, my agent, my teachers, my friends, my enemies, the blogosphere, the chap in the newsagent who delivers my papers, the bloke who sold me my computer, the thousands of you - the little people who pass through my life anonymously - who have all made me the wonderful, humble, thought-provoking and just plain darling - and, clearly, phenomenally talented - human being that I am.

But above all else, I must thank my producers at the Big Blog Company. without whom there would be no site. I am touched at the faith you showed in me and your foresight in giving me a starring role.

It has been a hard slog to the top, making my way through mind-numbing local radio interviews and writing for nothing; never did I imagine that I would hit such exalted heights.

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...and here he is with his uncle, Captain Miller (Major Miller is on the left, with his stable lad, Corky Browne).

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Here's my new horse, Major Miller.

You can read his breeding details here. As you can see, he's Nijinsky's grandson! It's a pretty stunning pedigree. Let's just hope that's reflected on the track.

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You may not realise it, but yesterday was your first day of the year. Your first day, that is, rather than the Government’s. Yesterday, you see, was Tax Freedom Day — the day when you stop working for the Government and start working for yourself.

It is now, according to the Adam Smith Institute, six days later than when Labour took office in 1997. Tut-tut, and all that. But if Tax Freedom Day is getting later and later, so too is another day which deserves equal obloquy: Pap Freedom Day.

Not a day is free of the pap that infects British culture. Last week saw the start of Hell’s Kitchen — a programme that rounds up D-list celebrities who can’t cook, puts them in a restaurant kitchen and then builds hours of mind-numbingly dull TV on the shock revelation that the food isn’t very good.

This week — and for the next ten weeks, too, God help us — we have the even deeper stimulation of Big Brother. Turn on BBC One any night of the week — not to mention the daytime pap — and you can but weep at the thought that, through your licence fee, you are paying for — to take tonight — EastEnders, Changing Rooms and Murphy’s Law. Pap.

So I have a proposal. Instead of the drip, drip, drip of pap that suffocates us from January to December, why not push it all together, morning, noon and night, from January 1 every year. Then — this is critical — take action to ensure that, instead of merely charting its progress, Pap Freedom Day is, literally, the day on which we are freed from pap. Between January and Pap Freedom Day, you know never, ever, to turn on the TV. But from then onwards, it’s safe: The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, The West Wing. No soaps — pap; no reality programmes — pap; and no lifestyle makeovers – pap.

I use TV as an exemplar. But Pap Freedom must be an across-the-board measure. Next month it will be impossible to escape that most dreaded phenomenon, Henmania. Instead of allowing the virus to escape in the middle of the year, confine it to January. Confine, indeed, the entire Wimbledon fortnight to January. And when it is rained off, so much the better.

The news, too, needs to be brought to heel. Is there anyone who has the slightest interest in the sexual antics of Lord Coe?

Or in the sexual antics of whichever other TV or sport personalities are to be fingered playing away over the rest of the year? Or in most of the minor political nonentities who are the usual subject of exposés? Confine all the sex scandals to before Pap Freedom Day.

And why do we have to listen to Charles Kennedy throughout the year? The undiscriminating might, I concede, see no harm. The rest of us understand that a second of exposure is a second wasted of our lives. He has a democratic right to be heard. But we have a right not to stumble upon him unintentionally. So confine him to before Pap Freedom Day. That way safety lies.

But forget all the above. There is one compelling reason for the introduction of Pap Freedom Day and criminal sanctions against those who infringe it: Harry Potter. The latest film will unleash, once again, the embarrassing and worrying spectacle of grown men and women proclaiming their love of the books and the films. They need help. They are plainly in the grip of a disease that is steadily rotting their brain.

Removing all access to Potter items might well be too great a shock to the system. Instead, references to the stories should be confined to before Pap Freedom Day. That way, with additional professional help, they stand a chance of being weaned off as the year progresses.

If you value your time on this planet, and you resent being force- fed a diet of pap, join me in my crusade to introduce Pap Freedom Day. You know it makes sense.

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You have to hand it to the internet fraudsters. This one manages to combine the usual story with opposition to the Iraq War:

Good day;
I am Hajai Kudirat Khalifa the Wife of the Ex-oil minister Of Iraq, Comrade Hammoud Khalifa I am moved to write this letter to you considering my present circumstances and situations as I escaped out of the country (Iraq) to Libya, along with my children, where my family settled down.

My husband moved to was killed amongst other military men fighting against the coalition forces of United States of America, however there after declaration of War on Iraq the United States of America made arrangements with the Switzerland Government and some other European countries to freeze my husbands accounts abroad considering my husband as looter of public funds.

But God so kind to us, my husband and I deposited the sum of US$22,000,000.0 Twenty Two Million United States Dollars with a reputable Security Company Firm in Dubai, United Arab Emirates for Safe Keeping. These funds were security coded to prevent it from failing into the wrong hands.

I humbly want to introduce you to my son Prince Dahiru Musa Khalifa whom is Schooling in London but currently in Dubai in search for admission to complete his education there in Dubai U.A.E where the funds are safely kept, because Schooling in London is very expensive and I could no longer bear the cost.

However, I want to seek for your consent in assisting us to invest this money but I wouldnt want I and my son identity to be revealed due to our position and current situation in Iraq. May I implore you to maintain the high level of confidentiality which this transaction requires and I hope you will not betray the trust and confidence that I have already bestowed in you.

Finally, if you are ready to assist us. My son will put you through the picture of the business. I will forward to you the contacts of my son Prince Dahiru Musa Khalifa immediately on the receipt of your response.
He will discuss the modalities and remuneration of your services as soon as you indicate your interest to assist us.

Thanks for your anticipated cooperation.
Yours Sincerely;
Hajia Kudirat Khalifa

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I wouldn't want to disappoint those of you who logged on for updates on Spring Dawn. I am excited to let you know that I've now bought a new horse. He's Major Miller, a three year old chestnut colt.

Like Spring Dawn, he's with Nicky Henderson, but unlike Spring Dawn he's an unknown quantity with, potentially, well...lots of potential. Nicky saw him one morning at this year's Cheltenham Festival and decided to buy him on the spot. I managed to get the last share in him (Nicky himself is one of the shareholders).

Nicky says that he was "a bugger to break in" which is, of course, a good sign - it means, hopefully, that he's got some spunk.

The initial target is the big bumper race at Newbuty this autumn and he'll then, probably, go over hurdles straight away and be aimed at one of the novice races at Cheltenham this year. But anything he does over the next two or three years is a bonus: chasing is his game.

I'll post a picture as soon as I can.

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Excellent. Spurs will have at least 6 points next season.

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Phew. I have found something on which to differ from Oliver Kamm.

Oliver's latest post is a summary of the upcoming elections. Quite rightly, he attacks UKIP and cites an admirable piece by Johan Hari which digs behind the veneer.

That's the problem with UKIP. There might seem to be every good reason to vote UKIP next month but for one small problem: what it believes in. So much about the state of British politics today points to making a protest via UKIP about the failure of both Labour and the Conservatives to offer anything except the usual tired centrist agendas.

But even voting Green in 1989 would have been more sensible, despite that party's lunatic beliefs, than voting UKIP today. The Green vote was taken, rightly, not as an endorsement of its specific policies but as a general concern about the environment. UKIP, however, only has one recognisable message: pulling out of the EU. Supporting that idea - and a vote for UKIP cannot be seen in any other way - would be a terrible blow to euroscepticism, since it undermines the idea that we can reform from within and hands the argument to the Eurofanatics who have always alleged that eurosceptics are in reality eurohaters.

Leave aside the distinctly unpleasant views and associations of some of its leading lights; a vote for UKIP now has nothing to commend to it. We are at a critical juncture in the future of the EU. The accession of the 10 new Member States will, in time, change the culture and balance of the EU almost beyond recognition. The British vision now has real support across the EU. Even if the purported new constitution would frustrate that, we have the chance to vote 'no'.

(And I would bet my small fortune on there being no constitution emerging from the Brussels summit next month. My Brussels tenure has taught me one thing above all - the deplorable coverage of the British media, which seems to have not the least idea what is going on. Far from the French and German view gaining ground, as one would believe from our media, it loses ground with every passing minute. And far from the change of government in Spain meaning there is now a renewed push towards that vision, it has had zero impact on its acceptance - indeed, if anything it has had made it less likely to prevail. And, finally, I wonder if anyone from the UK media actually bothers to speak to policy makers from the new accession countries. If they did, they would realise that we have a whole new bunch of allies. And when they get richer - as they will - they will not be so timid about standing up for their views. This is a theme to which I will be returning when I have more time.)

I digress. That's not the issue on which I disagree with Oliver. It's on something far more parochial: voting Labour.

Unlike Oliver, I have a vote in the mayoral election in London. There are three realistic choices. Simon Hughes is beyond the pale, a man whose canmpaigning tactics are so vile that no civilised man or woman should contemplate putting an x by his name. His campaign in the Bermondsey by-election was quite foully homophobic. Peter Tatchell, his Labour opponent, ought never to have been selected by his party, and ought never to have got near to a council election, let alone a parliamentary by-election. But that was because of his warped politics. His sexual preferences were not remotely relevant, and certainly should not have been the subject of the Liberals' obscene smears. But as anyone who has had to deal with them knows, the Liberals' squeaky clean image is quite wrong: they fight viciously and dirtily. My own experience of them in Tower Hamlets in the late 80s and early 90s revealed to me that they were racist, too.

In some circumstances I might have voted for Steve Norris, but since he has chosen to make the election a referendum on the congestion charge - he has no other recognisable policy - I have no choice but to vote to keep him out of office, since I believe the charge to be one of the politically bravest and most successful public policy developments since the demise of Margaret Thatcher.

Which leaves Ken. In normal circumstances I would never, ever, vote for him. I did my damndest to keep him out in 2000.

But.

First, since this is, as Norris wants it to be, a referendum on the charge, I can think of no other worthwhile vote than Livingstone.

But there is another factor in his favour. Whatever his own views on the Iraq war and the US, and however much I would not have wanted him readmitted to the Labour Party, he is the official Labour candidate and as such it is important that those of us who support Tony Blair register that support wherever possible. That means, perhaps perversely, voting for one of the most vocal opponents of the war on terror.

So Livingstone it is.

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This is my last Spring Dawn post. We sold him on Thursday at the Doncaster Sales to a good home - he is going to go hunting and point to pointing in Cirencester.

He's a lovely horse, and a terrific jumper, but he just wasn't interested in winning. I'm delighted that he is going to have a lovely semi-retirement with owners who will treat him well.

It was fun, if hardly profitable (although we got almost double the sum we hoped for at auction).

Onwards and upwards: I'm checking over the final details for my new purchase. I can barely contain my excitement. Spring Dawn was never going to be more than a bit of fun. The horse I am about to buy into, however, is - in theory - a serious racehorse. More news when the deal is, hopefully, done...

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Mike McLoughlin has an interesting take on obesity:

The best way to address the current obesity crisis - in men at least - is to publicise one of its most unpleasant side effects: excess fat in men converts testosterone into oestrogen which is a female sex hormone, thus reducing the size of the penis. Those comforting themselves by thinking it "appeared" smaller as it was getting lost in the folds of flab will have to think again.

I can't say I've noticed it working in reverse while I've been losing weight.

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I may indeed be a 'snivelling Bush arse-licker' as one correspondent informed me recently, but I thought this letter in today's Guardian rather fun. Asked to suggest new public holidays, Marilyn Partridge writes:

How about July 4 - Dependence Day?

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