JK Rowling - I am appalled

I am appalled. In fact, it has taken me two whole days to sufficiently un-appall myself in order to write about how appalled I am. If there are any breaks in this text it will me having to leave the screen for a few minutes to go and let off steam by punching a wall or binge eat an entire triple pack of Jaffa cakes.

The news that JK Rowling has donated a million pounds to the Labour Party left me with my jaw hanging on the kitchen floor on Friday. Luckily I had just given the tiles a good sweep or else I would have ended up with an unattractive beard of cat hair. What did she think she was doing? I know, I know, it's her money and she can do with it what she will but I think I would have been less appalled if she had put it in a brazier and set fire to it. At least it might have kept someone warm for a while if she had done that. But donate it to the Labour Party? I bet they are rubbing their hands together. 'We'll be all right for the Christmas do then this year, won't we Gordon? Shall I ring Fortnum's now?' 'Yes , Darling (sorry, old Blackadder joke but I am too appalled to be original today) and make sure you get the nice champagne. None of that asti spumante stuff.'

Andy assures me that it is to do with the Labour Party's good record on poverty. Well yes, they are certainly doing their best to introduce that concept to as many British citizens as possible, aren't they? Rising fuel and food costs, the banks and stock exchange dancing a very unco-ordinated tango and trying to justify their spurious practices (which have also appalled me), car tax up, council tax up, is this enough of a Daily Mail viewpoint for you yet??

If JK wants to recognise poverty in her charity giving - and I know she does a HUGE amount for charity all ready for which I admired her enormously (my admiration has taken a tentative step backwards with this Labour Party lunacy) then I am sure there are thousands more worthy causes than the Labour Party. Aren't there??

And this is why I don't like politics. It makes me angry. It makes me argue. And since giving up teaching, I have learned that life is much nicer without anger and argument. And by the way, if I ever make huge amounts of money from my writing I am going to write out a hefty cheque to the Buttercup Goat Santuary near to where I live. You know where you are with a goat. Which is more than can be said for David Milliband, who I am willing to bet will be leader of Labour by Christmas, quaffing that Fortnum champers as Gordon sits on the doorstep of Number 10 selling matchsticks and getting snow kicked in his face.

Now where are those Jaffa cakes?