Enemies of Reason Poundshop potshots at the media moral maze.

Pictures of David Miliband looking stupid with ice cream

Following on from yesterday's silliness - and yes, I don't know if I'll ever see anything as magical as that confetti picture if I live to be 109 - here's something a bit more niche. Thanks to Safiya Outlines for the tipoff. I now present to you pictures of David Miliband looking stupid with ice cream.

I think while he's out in the political wilderness, he needs to do a couple of things. Firstly, learn how to eat an ice cream without looking like he's fellating a donkey. And secondly, of course, he needs to overcome that fear of confetti. After all, when his brother finally makes an honest woman of the mother of his children, you can't have David looking like this in the wedding photos...

I'll never tire of it, it's as simple as that.

Pictures of David Miliband looking stupid

15 albums I’ve played to death

I'm joining in with the '15 albums' meme. (I saw at it Duncan Stott's blog.) Simple rules - 15 albums that will always stick with you; don't think about it too much, just write it down.

So here we go. 15 albums that I've played to death. You may gain some kind of insight into my strangeness from these selections.

Blue Lines - Massive Attack The album I've got says 'Massive' on the CD rather than Massive Attack. I can't remember if this was because it was released during the first Gulf War and things like 'Attack' were censored, or self-censored, or whether that was just some kind of rumour doing the rounds. I played this one to death during 1993-4, though I don't really listen to it too much nowadays.

The Boy With the Arab Strap - Belle & Sebastian I only recently rediscovered this little gem, having played it to death a few years back. I could listen to stuff like Dirty Dream No 2 or the title track for ever.

Different Class - Pulp This album is the summer of 1996 for me though I think it came out before then. But this was a time when I was living in London and did used to end up in Bar Italia watching the wage slaves going to work, while I was still a smug student. "The crowd gasp at Cocker's masterful control of the bicycle, skilfully avoiding the dog turd outside the corner shop..." - beautiful.

Electric Ladyland - Jimi Hendrix Experience This was probably the first album I really played to death, when I was about 16-17 and had it on a battered old cassette. The first time I heard Voodoo Chile I was like, what the fuck is this? This is terrific!

Harvest - Neil Young There's a legendary BBC performance that gets aired on BBC4 every now and then of a very callow and shy Neil Young doing some acoustic stuff. As soon as I heard A Man Needs A Maid I had to find the album.

The Heart of Saturday Night - Tom Waits The bartenders all know my name, and they catch me when I'm pulling up lame... this is more of a Sunday morning after the Saturday night before album, I think, a comedown record, and a marvellous one at that.

Hunky Dory - David Bowie Is there life on Mars? Are the Bewley Brothers really that scary? Why does he want them for his gravy? What the hell is that Bombers song all about? One of the finest albums ever to have the word 'cobblers' in it.

Madman Across the Water - Elton John I've only recently found this album, it's tremendous early Elton. Long, luxurious arrangements. The one about the geezer in his teepee makes you wince a bit, but the rest is finely crafted stuff from when Reg and Bernie were churning out about 500 albums a year - which is probably why this little gem got lost in all the excitement.

Nixon - Lambchop Up With People is spectacular, and the rest of the album is like soaking in a warm bath of faint misery.

Now I'm a Cowboy - The Auteurs I played everything by the Auteurs to death after seeing them at the Reading Festival in 1994. This was a lovely album, snarling class war and anger.

Pink Moon - Nick Drake I can't really listen to this very much nowadays, but there was a time when I really did play it all the time. Surprised that I made it out of the other end.

Rio - Duran Duran Now we're talking. Quality DD here, with the magnificent The Chauffeur to top it off.

Spirit of Eden - Talk Talk The first track alone is astonishing, the pebbles rubbed together, the bicycle wheel turning round. It's not the Talk Talk you know, as someone once described it to me.

Tindersticks (second album) - Tindersticks When you've only got 40 Marlboro to help get you through the night of frustration and heartbreak, you're going to need help. This album is that help. The one about the cherry blossoms is pretty much the gloomiest thing I've ever heard. Brilliant.

Up to Our Hips - Charlatans I still love this album from start to finish, the funky Get Carter theme tune and everything.

All-purpose Ed Miliband hatchet job

Son of a Marxist, therefore must be one himself... illegal immigrant, so he's bound to favour them, isn't he? And of course, he's one of them. No charisma... a bit weird... probably autistic or something, shall we say Asperger's Syndrome...? (Why not? This worked well with Gordon Brown. Before you know it we'll have everyone commenting on news articles involving Ed Miliband to call him a 'weirdo' and say he's 'mental'. Job done.) Call him a bit weird and then everyone will know what you're really getting at. Say he looks uncomfortable in public, as if he might be special needs.

Not on the birth certificate... of course, it's a purely private matter between him and his 'partner'... (ensure 'partner' is in inverted commas to make it clear that it's wrong / immoral / maybe he's gay or something) ... but surely his children have been let down, traumatised... of course we wouldn't want to imply that he's not the father of his children... but get him to deny that he's not the father, just to point it out... too busy to look after his own family, what does that say about him? Weirdo. Nutter. Loony. Special needs weirdo maybe gay illegal immigrant Marxist leftie Trot troublemaker scum bastard, or just a really bad dad? Hey, it's not for us to decide... it's a purely private matter for him and his 'partner'... of course, he couldn't be bothered to get married... they hate marriage, while at the same time they let gay people, and lesbians do it... oh yes, it's pretty clear where these metropolitan elite liberal-left Socialist scum's priorities lie... not with marriage and families and children and nice things like that... but with dirty evil, like gays and lesbians. What does that say about Labour?

Lurch to the left... left-leaning... propped up by unions... evil unions... three per cent of union members at a time when they're less powerful than at any time over the past 100 years vote for Miliband, so he's a puppet... puppet of Bob Crow... Bob Crow's evil autistic puppet... weirdo non-father Crow puppet Asperger's Marxist... Labour won't win back their Surrey heartland with him in charge... Miliband will lurch to the left and leave Middle England behind... he will, whether he's said the exact opposite or not... fears of a lurch to the left... fears of rifts in Labour... fear... fear... fear... more talented brother, yet he got elected... and he still won't put his name on the birth certificate...

Here’s to you, Mr Robinson

It's not just me that finds that image disturbing, is it? In fact I'd pretty much say that if you don't find that image disturbing, I find it disturbing that you don't find it disturbing. It's that look on his face as he's staring straight out at you. *shudders* But still, he's not talking, so that's something.

I don't know what it is about Nick Robinson that make me want to chuck a custard pie in his face live on TV so much. Is he a Tory? Does he drop clangers, like predicting that David Miliband had won the Labour leadership contest when in fact he hadn't? Does he look a bit like the Bo Selecta bear?

Is he, in Justin's immortal words, a 'state-funded gossip'? Is he a twerp? Is he a twerpy state-funded gossip clanger-dropping Tory who looks like the Bo Selecta bear? I don't know for sure. But there's something. Something that elevates him above the level of a merely annoying bloke off the telly into someone so truly demonic that as soon as he chirpily starts twatting on about whatever meandering toss he's serving up, the world slows down and I start diving for the remote control to make the madness stop.

Funny thing is, I listened to him on the radio last night, and didn't find myself instantly wanting to push him down a fire escape. He had a cold of sorts, so he was a bit croakier than usual, but I don't think it was that; he didn't sound like the kind of prattling ponce I've come to expect on the TV - no, this was a Nick Robinson who was reasonable, measured, not trying to reduce everything to a level that only a chimp would struggle to understand, not beaming away with that "Hello, it's me on the telly!" look on his face (or if he was, I mercifully couldn't see it), actually talking as if he had a fucking clue about what he was going on about. I mean the content wasn't tremendously different; he came out with some specious crap about fears of Ed Miliband turning New Labour into North Korea, or something, but it wasn't as loathsome somehow.

Now I have no idea why this might be - why this man might be insufferably awful on the television, yet quite tolerable on the radio, but there you are. Perhaps radio is a better medium; perhaps he doesn't feel he has to act up for the cameras or to put on a performance to keep people from turning over - maybe he's been told, unless he tries to make everything into a fucking pantomime on telly, that the thicky proles won't be able to understand, and will reach down their jogging bottoms to scratch their nuts while flicking over to Live Tractor Pulling on Eurosport +1. Maybe, or maybe he's just a hopeless cock whose awfulness is muted by being on the radio. It's hard to tell.

Whatever it is, that urge to pie him in public* just seems to get greater every day.

* Disclaimer: I will never put a custard pie in Nick Robinson's face, nor would I ever like to see anyone do it. (Or if they did, I'd hope that he took his glasses off afterwards leaving two naked eyes, as is the correct way for a spectacled man to receive a pie in the face. At least bloody well do it properly).