Sounds raisinable.

A Hollywood executive wanted to hire Gustav Mahler (d.1911) after seeing Death in Venice.

The case is being fought in the US. But if you replace “a legal system that he hasn’t corrupted yet” with “a media company whose licensing he cannot influence”, that would be bang on, because that’s why the BBC is fighting back while so many US organisations cravenly capitulated.

I’m commenting exclusively on what I saw broadcast last night. And this viewer very much did decide for himself what her evasiveness meant—as, I suspect, did the vast majority of other viewers. I repeat: I can’t envisage how anyone else would have got any more out of her.

Part of the problem is that Dorries wasn't directly involved, so she had that card to play every time things strayed in directions she wasn't comfortable with. Which arguably made interviewing her a waste of time—except for the graphic demonstration that Reform hasn't got its story straight yet.

Under those particular circumstances, not least Dorries' all too evident determination to avoid asking direct questions, I very much doubt it. I also don't really see how she could have been "exposed more fully" than she was, given that she obviously wasn't going to point-blank admit to illegality.

And surely the "immediate interruptions" were caused by Dorries making it obvious that she wasn't going to answer the question and was hoping to coast along instead by repeating the same small handful of memorised talking points? How would *not* interrupting her have made for a better interview?

It provided plenty of information to this viewer, namely that Reform have no idea how to respond to these allegations coherently, and will visibly tie themselves in knots whenever they're asked to explain the situation by an interviewer who's clearly better prepared than they are.

People often write "minuscule" as "miniscule", but once you're aware that the first two syllables are "minus" rather than "mini", it makes perfect sense. (My mum had a huge etymological dictionary and warmly encouraged me to look things up in it almost as soon as I was able to.)

Our shared love of the English language in all its peculiarities and circumlocutions was one of the very first things that attracted me to my wife. And we were both delighted when our son, aged circa eleven, called her a "thieving hussy"—entirely reasonably, as it turned out.

So's my dog, to be fair. Even in his present post-cremation form.