... and meanwhile a bloke in Plymouth hasn't had his tea

EVEN IF we grudgingly accept that women can no longer be confined to the home apart from essential shopping expeditions and the occasional night out, it does seem a little curious that we should then happily send them off to war where they become useful trophies for mad mullahs.

If we have to have our troops captured and used as political pawns by the Iranians, would you rather it was 15 rough and tough Royal Marines, battle-hardened veterans of the alcopop-fuelled pubs of Plymouth, or 14 rough and tough Royal Marines and the mother of a three-year-old child? It’s madness.

No doubt the daft bint thought that joining up to be a boat driver would be a bit of a laugh and that the most threatening thing she’d come up against would be the Bishop of Southwark riding past on a pedalo while eating a turkey sandwich. Well it’s not so funny now, is it?

Mind you, watching her smoke like a docker and having seen her childlike writing, I expect that she's even harder and thicker than the Marines she ferries around.

I quite understand that the armed forces need women to make up the numbers – 18,000 of them to be exact. And even if they don’t want to go down the traditional (and sensible) route of being nurses, cooks or cleaners, there are plenty of positions they can occupy that don’t put them at risk of ending up in a Teheran cell block.

And meanwhile, Mrs Faye Turney’s husband, himself a proper sailor, is at home looking after the couple’s daughter. Is that a sensible use of resources when the armed forces are forever telling us (quite rightly) that they’re undermanned and overstretched? And his tea won’t be on the table when it should be.

I’VE TRIED not to get too involved in debunking the Green bandwagon that is currently steamrollering every aspect of our society. I know that in time the tide will turn and the posturing nonsense of our politicians will be exposed for what it is – utter twaddle.

However, I cannot help but point out the yoghurt-knitting tree-huggers, so recently exposed as being responsible for millions of acres of Amazonian rain forest being cleared to grow the soya that goes into their vegetarian sausages, have scored another blinding own goal in the ecological net.

You may have caught some of the hype regarding alternative fuels like bio-diesel that can be developed from easily grown crops. Seems sensible, doesn’t it? Why pipe it from under the sea or desert if you can plant a few gallons in your back garden?

Small snag. A principal component of environmentally-friendly fuel is palm oil. Palm oil is now being extensively grown in Borneo and Sumatra to supply this growing trend. Unfortunately this means massive clearance of the rain forests that are the natural habitat of the wonderful orang-utan, whose numbers have already halved in the past two decades.

So there you have it. Put a tiger in your tank and make a monkey homeless. They can have the slogan for free.

MUCH IS made of the crime wave amongst our young people, but I do think that in many cases it’s the parents who should shoulder at least some of the blame.

Take Tracy Barlow, for example. This poor woman spent seven years of her childhood upstairs in her bedroom allegedly doing her homework. Neither hide nor hair of her was seen. Quite how social services didn’t become involved I don’t know. So why are we so surprised now that she’s turned into a scheming manipulative murderess? Ken and Deirdre should hang their heads in shame.

AS WE’RE buried under a veritable tidal wave of lard-arsed fat kids, the Food Standards Agency has come up with a stunning wheeze to stem the incidence of juvenile obesity – they’re going to make chocolate bars smaller. No, really.

The plan, which will also include smaller bags of crisps and shrinking biscuits, is part of the FSA’s campaign against the “supersize” culture which includes such delights as the Burger King Extra Large Double Whopper With Cheese. (I don’t know about you but I could just demolish one of those now.)

I’m not sure they’ve really thought this through. Firstly, if a fat kid is handed a chocolate bar that he or she can scoff in five seconds flat, they’re just going to whine until you give them another one. Secondly, the FSA obviously hasn’t noticed but this trend has already been happening for years.

When I were a lad, Wagon Wheels were just that – a chocolate and marshmallow biscuit the circumference of a manhole cover. Buy a packet today and they’re tiny – smaller and thinner to the point that you can fit a whole one in your mouth with ease. And then there’s Monster Munch. They used to be big and crunchy. Now they’re half the size and dissolve in your mouth like a Communion wafer.

Snickers were bigger when they were Marathons, Crème Eggs are about a third of their original size, Milky Ways are now miniscule, Toblerones are more hills than Alps, Curly Wurlies used to come in packs of two but are now singular, and even Picnics and Topics have been downsized. And still the playground porkers pile on the pounds.

YOU MIGHT have expected the Blah Dynasty to limp quietly towards the exit door, but there is no let-up in the profligate lunacy of NuLabour.

As if a salary of £60,000, a gold-plated pension and expenses of around £130,000 a head wasn’t enough, the snouts have been jostling in the trough for yet more public money. This time around it’s a new allowance totalling £10,000 a year (on top of everything else) for MPs to launch their own websites to boost the “public understanding” of Parliament.

Forgive the cynicism, but how many simple websites cost ten grand a year to run? And, given that the sites won’t be allowed to promote an individual politician or political party, just what is going to be on them that isn’t already covered by existing government and party sites?

Mind you, £10,000 will buy a very nice 48-inch multimedia plasma screen telly with home cinema and all the latest computer games consoles…