We all somehow tolerate oddly-shaped Rod Liddle, the 'voice of everyman'. The bloke who's apparently 'not afraid to say what other blokes are thinking'. Or something.
Personally, CF thinks he's a drooling arse, probably struggling to compensate for years of bullying at some god-forsaken primary school in the arse-end of nowhere.
Liddle must be highly thought of, or well connected, or something, because he seems to be allowed to churn out his witless drivellings for the Spectator, the Sunday Times and diverse other publications that should really know better.
However, some relief this Sunday: the wet-lipped glass-half-empty merchant is away, and he's been - in the Sunday Times at least - replaced by everyone's favourite drive-by baboon shooter, Mr AA Gill.
Gill may be a stuttering, posh, dyslexic metrosexual ninny, but boy can that man turn a phrase.
On our 'new' Olympic mascots, 'Wenlock and Mandeville':
"They are in fact named for Much Wenlock, a town that was home to an unknown Englishman who suggested Olympian games .. and Stoke Mandeville, the hospital where drunk ex-motorcyclists go to get fitted with head wands and bibs."
On Mick Jagger's suggestion that we have a 'trial' for legalising drugs by selecting a community, like the Isle of Man:
"..the Isle of Man, an inspired choice. If it all goes wrong, and they become a hopelessly addicted, criminal cesspit, who’d care? .. I have never been anywhere that would be more improved by a glut of class A substances .. Bring on the crack."
On Diana Abbott, everyone's favourite potential Labour leader:
"Diane is our very own Carry On version of Obama. What I find particularly winning is her gracious habit of closing her eyes when talking down to us.
When asked by Andrew Neil if sending her child to a public school might perhaps lose her votes with the left wing of her party, she replied, eyes tight shut, fingers dabbling, that it was hard being a single mother"
Enjoy your holiday, Rod. Oh and Rod: don't rush back.