We had a quiet little night, just myself and the children and a few of their friends.  A quiet little night, preceded by a quiet little evening.

I made a big pile of mince with spices of every kind.  Coriander, fenugreek, cumin (or Jeera as we used to call it in the old days), cardamoms of both persuasions.  The finest fresh green chillis.  Lemon juice.  Yoghurt.  God knows what else.  I pounded up a load of garlic and tore lumps off my coriander plant.  I squished and twisted and mixed and patted and moulded, and eventually came up with a platter of shish kebabs you’d kill for.  So bah!

I had a bucket full of iced water and beer.  (My children aren’t really children anymore).

I had a roasting hot barbecue full of charcoal thingy-bits.

I had the tent wired for sound as usual and it seemed only fair that the children should listen to Stevie Ray Vaughan as we sucked on our Budejovicky Budvars delivered straight from ÄŒeské BudÄ›jovice.  (As opposed to that other poison, brewed through a horse).

The conversation, as ever, strayed to the impending end of the world, which will be brought directly to a living room near you if the most insane person who ever lived is elected Vice-President of the United States.  And of course, from there it was a short hop to the idiocy of giving the American banks enough money to buy Australia.

What???  demanded the Daughter.

Yes, I said, smugly.  That’s how much the Chimp is giving the banks.

Do you know nothing?  demanded the Daughter.  He’s not asking the taxpayer for a penny.

He isn’t?  I cowered.

Certainly not, said the Daughter.  I’ll have another bottle of Budejovicky Budvar, thanks.  Certainly not.  He won it on internet poker.

He did?  I repeated, astounded.

He certainly mo’fukkin did.  What a patriot!  It’s a little-known fact that George W Bush started his internet poker campaign with seven dollars and a small bag of coke which he refused to open but wanted at his side by way of a talisman for Jesus.

Yeah? we all gaped.

Praise the Lord! confirmed my eldest child.  And from that seven dollars seedcorn, by judicious heedin’ of the Lord’s promptin’, he made hissel’ seven hundred billion dollars!!  Praise the Lord!!  Praise da Lawd!!!

Steady on, I advised quietly, but there was no stoppin’ mah lil’ baby now.

Praise da Laaawwwwddd!!  My child was in rapture, speaking in tongues and falling on the floor foaming at the mouth.

You all right?  I whispered.

Yeah. I was out on the town with the girls last night.  Hangover.

Thank Christ, I muttered.

Thank Christ indeed!!! shouted my little girl, dancing before the Converted.  He won it on the TV poker!!!  Praise the Lord.  And that, mah friends, is how GW Bush found the money to save America!!

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And here’s the great Stevie Ray.  As I told you, we were listening to him during the evening, and though he had nothing whatever to do with Bush’s economic policy, I wish he was still alive instead of that fucking monkey.