One day a couple of years or so ago, I was driving my mother, who is quite deaf, to see a friend. We were lost, the traffic was heavy and the journey was pretty miserable. I switched on the car radio in time to catch part of Humph’s regular show. After a while, mum asked me to turn up the volume so she could hear it.

Humph said: “I’ve got a pack of organic sausages in my fridge at home.” “Printed on the pack”, he continued, “is a picture of Anthony Worrall-Thompson”. A pregnant pause, then: “Underneath, it says ‘prick with a fork’!”

I had to pull into a lay-by as tears of laughter streamed down my face. Mother very nearly wet herself laughing. Our day was transformed from that moment. Thank you, Humph, and goodbye.

An ITV reporter locked in a lift - the spectacle of staff running from journalists to avoid being interviewed under what must have been insufferable stress - another hack reporting on evening television how his bags had failed to arrive in Paris and his return flight delayed (due to baggage handling problems at Terminal 5) - the list goes on and on.

No doubt there will be a full enquiry.  How did the lifts fail?  The luggage handling system break down?  The gangways fail to connect with the aircraft doors?  The airport is operated by BAA, whose website this-morning gives no indication of the current chaos, merely inviting the visitor to explore the wonderful new facilities on offer.

British Airways site, by contrast publishes a profuse apology for the disruption to its flights, together with detailed information on how to obtain compensation for missed and cancelled flights.

Whereas BA has not employed its "Fly the Flag" strapline in advertising for many years, the airline is still in some minds synonymous with cool, British efficiency and carries the respect of travellers worldwide.  How will this current fiasco affect BA?  And how much of the can must be carried by the confusingly named BAA?

At a time when the British economy needs a real boost internationally, along comes a disaster of the kind that will be remembered by cynics with more influence than The Old Hack for some time to come.

It's not often that my sympathies lie with large conglomerates such as British Airways - but on this occasion I can't help thinking they are the unwitting scapegoats for BAA.  British Airports Authority, in spite of its name now part of the Spanish Ferovial corporation, was recently reported to be in debt to the tune of nine billion pounds.  Airport International has been reporting BAA could be forced to sell off airports including Heathrow in order to return to liquidity.  Looks like that could happen sooner rather than later.  Could Heathrow and other airports return to British ownership and control?  Could we once more "Fly the Flag" with some regained pride?  Or will BA be the one to suffer and end up the way of KLM, taken over by another country's flagship airline.  Air France/KLM/BA just sounds too unwieldy!

There hasn't always been an easy relationship between French Presidents and British Prime Ministers.  Thatcher could hardly disguise her disdain for the Socialist Mitterand and the stony silences between Churchill and de Gaulle were the stuff of legend.  So President Sarkozy's apparent idolising of the Rt. Hon Tony Blair seems exceptional.  Tony (the people's PM) is Sarkozy's first choice for President of Europe and somehow this kind of endorsement from a suave, sophisticated, erudite wordsmith of a European seemed to carry with it a unique worthiness.

This suave, sophisticated, erudite President found himself the other day at the Ministry of Agriculture, surrounded by a host of hand-shaking adoring sycophants.  Well, all except one.  An elderly gentleman, on seeing Sarkozi's outstretched hand exclaimed "Don't you touch me!"  And the sophisticated response from the erudite, suave President?

"Piss off then, you old git" (I translate freely but not unrealistically, I promise you)  A video of this exchange was posted on YouTube, but mysteriously disappeared shortly afterwards.  Yes, even the vulgar retain power and influence. 

Please excuse the Old Hack’s failure to applaud. I was around when this pathetic excuse for a politician was elected to lead my country. And lead it she did - into a state of arrogant disdain for the poor and disadvantaged. Into a selfish, introverted uncaring and uncharitable society where respect belonged only to the wealthy. Into a duped society believing that salvation was at hand as soon as it had pawned it’s family silver to buy its council house, and which was rudely awakened when the bailiffs came knocking at the door just a few short years later. A society whose disabled and sick were labelled ‘spongers’ without recourse to evidence of any kind. A society where working man was set against working man in the orchestrated destruction of the Trade Unions. A ‘loadsamoney’ society which began to truly believe that money could buy anything, and knew the price of everything and the value of nothing. A society which has forever since retained festering, septic, remnants of this distasteful, vulgar period of politics under a distasteful and vulgar leader.

“Today”, said David Cameron in the Daily Torygraph, “We know exactly what Thatcherism meant for our country; victory in the Cold War, victory against unbridled trade union power, the sale of council houses, the liberation of the British economy…”

To the best of my knowledge (and I have no wish to be sued here, so I am careful to make that qualification) David Cameron has never belonged to a trade union. Nor has he owned or even lived in a council house. I doubt he is old enough to remember much detail of the so-called Cold War and as for the liberation of the British economy I do not believe that Cameron’s wealth or background suggest he has ever enjoyed anything other than a wealthy and privileged life.

I do not think we need concern ourselves that Cameron may replace Thatcher. Tony Blair did a good enough job of that, failing to reverse or even compensate for much of the damage the former inflicted on Britain. Rather we should remember the lifetime achievement of one of his predecessors. The achievement of a British Prime Minister who succeeded where the Third Reich had failed in destroying the spirit of a nation and reducing it to an infighting, self-important, uncaring shadow of its former self.

A lifetime achievement indeed, and one which I fear cannot be reversed within mine.

Picture courtesy of www.recessmonkey.com

Here it seems you can have any telephone provider you like - so long as it is Orange.  Let me explain.  Like me, you may have thought that the telephone provider for France was France Telecom.  Well it is.  Confused?  So was I.  Apparently some time ago, the internet provider Wanadoo took over France Telecom.  Then along came Orange and took over Wanadoo.  So France Telecom is now Orange - or so you might think.  The telephone line here is owned by the landlord, and is provided by France Telecom (alias Orange).  It was therefore impossible for me to organise a broadband internet connection , as I am the tenant of the house and therefore not the owner of the telephone line.  So far so good.

I contacted Orange to arrange dial up connection in my name with the account send directly to me.  I obtained the necessary log in and password and connected to the internet via a dial up modem from my landlord's telephone line.  The deal was to access the internet at any time for a fixed fee.  And so I did - though with sporadic success and an unbelievably slow connection which never allowed me time to post a blog before timing out!

Then I got a frantic call from my landlord (luckily we get on well) who had received a telephone demand from France Telecom for 150 Euros (over £100) for a month's telephone usage.

It seems that each time I had connected to the internet, France Telecom had added a call charge in addition to the standing charge required by Orange.

I telephoned the Orange helpline indignantly demanding that they refund the extra phone charges as I was paying a fixed fee to them. "No." they patiently explained, "You are paying the telephone charges to France Telecom" 

" But  you are (expletive deleted) France Telecom" I exploded.  "Oh no we're not " (I paraphrase) ...  Long and very complex explanations later I am told that should I wish to bypass France Telecom and deal exclusively with Orange, they will give me dial up access at any time of day or night for a fixed fee of 20 Euros and with no charge for calls from France Telecom (Just exactly how the original deal without the free phone calls cost more I have absolutely no clue!) A couple of weeks of this new deal cost me less financially, but even more in exasperation, as connectivity was even more sporadic than previously.

During my stay here in France I have come to know a local computer 'doctor' who is very helpful.  I explained my dilemma to him, and between us and the landlord we persuaded Orange and France Telecom (actually it was just Orange because now miraculously they seemed to be working in tandem) that I should be allowed a Broadband contract even though I am not the owner of the France Telecom line to the house.

So - If you are a regular visitor to these pages - that is why I have been out of touch for such a long time, and why I am now happily back in business.  The future's bright - the future's (what colour was that again?)

Yesterday being the second Thursday of November, the new season's Beaujolais was officially released amid much celebration which, of course, included the imbibing of the new wine.  It's been a very cold week here in the middle of France, and the idea of spending some time in our local bar sampling the fruit of the vine held much appeal for Mrs Old Hack and I.

We set off in our warmest coats to join in the fun.  A complimentary plate of various foodstuffs, including pate, saucisson sec, grapes and walnuts was placed before us as we opened our bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau.

All very well, I hear you say, but what has this to do with "Yes, we have no bananas?"  Bear with me, we will get there.

When we arrived at the bar - around seven thirty in the evening - we were virtually alone.  We made small talk with the bar owner, admired his skill at cracking walnuts with his hands (not having any nutcrackers available) and requested some Edith Piaf on the stereo.

About seven eighths of the way through our bottle, two young couples came into the bar and after an introductory chat challenged us to a game of darts (unusually popular in this part of France).

We replenished our glasses, discussed the fruitiness and   character of the wine and were ready to move the conversation on when mine host, who had just poured his first glass of the wine proclaimed loudly "Banane!" (Banana!) He explained that each year's new vintage has the aroma of a different fruit, and this year it was banana.  We opened a fresh bottle, swilled it round our mouths very carefully, sniffed the glass.  "Yes!" pronounced a customer. "He's right.  It's banana!"

An excited flurry of activity ensued as one after another, customers agreed that the surprise of the 2007 Beaujolais was its unusual banana nose, and each new imbiber was invited to taste and smell the banana.

I turned on the news on the television this-morning over breakfast.  The president of the Beajolais growers society pronounced that this year's wine was one of the best he had known for many years.  "The raspberry bouquet is especially prominent", he added.  Yes.  We have no bananas!

Cynical friends, both English and French, who know the country far better than I, say that is how things happen here.  A government threatens action which will be detrimental to public servants.  Public servants take industrial action.  Government capitulates.  It's more a way of life than a political gesture, and a quarter of the population get an extra day off work.

I couldn't help thinking about the postal strikes in England just before we left.  Everyone was worried about the mail being a few days late and the country being brought to its knees.  Here people just carried on as normal.  The mail will arrive soon enough, and if the trains aren't running well we'll just have to delay our journey by a day or two.

I can't say I agree with unions holding the government to ransom willy nilly, but the whole public attitude is very refreshing indeed!

A year ago I finished breakfast and had my usual cigarette.  I felt unusually short of breath.  The odd smoker's cough I could tolerate, but this was different.  And my body ached all over.  I put out the cigarette before I had finished it, and went to work in my office in North West London.

As the day went on, I felt progressively worse, didn't smoke my usual hourly cigarettes and took myself home at lunchtime.  I spent the rest of the day in bed, feeling dreadful, not eating and feeling like this was the worst dose of flu I had ever had.  At some stage in the late evening, I must have fallen asleep.

I woke at 3am, seemingly unable to breathe and with a dreadful pain in the left side of my chest.  I woke Mrs Old Hack, who had the good sense to get me to the local Accident and Emergency hospital with a minimum of delay.  I spent the following nine days in a hospital bed - though I am only really aware of the last four of those.  It seems I had contracted Legionnaire's Disease while on a short break in the South of France the week before.

I made a vow from my hospital bed, even before my condition was diagnosed, that I would not smoke any more.  And I have kept that vow for the past year.

The air that I breathe is generally sweeter these days, though I can't be too sure as I don't have much sense of smell (nothing to do with smoking, oddly enough).  On days when I can smell, cigarette smoke is quite revolting.

So why, after a whole year and now thankfully fully recovered from my illness, do I still yearn for a cigarette almost every day?  I understand that the addictive chemical, nicotine, is expunged from the body after just a couple of weeks.  I guess the brain is a more complex organ than any of us can fully understand - and mine is really angry with me for giving up smoking after   more than forty years!  Thankfully Mrs Old Hack, who has never smoked herself, is delighted.

I don't recommend Legionnaire's Disease as a means of quitting smoking.  I do, however vouch that the air that I breathe is healthier, cleaner and much, much cheaper than before.

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We window shopped, talked about all manner of things, said 'hello' to the many strangers who had come to visit the historic part of the town for the day and finally, before ascending the steep hill home, stopped off at a rather quaint 'salon de thé' run by one of the English residents of the town, for an English cream tea.

This would have been one of the most 'English' days we have spent in France, but for one important factor.  As we finished our cream tea, we watched the sun setting over the river Vienne - at about a quarter past five.  An hour after darkness fell upon the United Kingdom.

This 'Twilight Zone' has been much discussed in both the British and French press, with the French incredulous as to why the British should insist on maintaining the one hour time difference and thus compromising European trading and the British press wondering why government refuses to acknowledge the wishes of the majority of the people by extending an extra hour's daylight and thus potentially saving lives each year.

Anatole Kaletsky, in Thursday's 'Times', argues the reason for non action by the British government is a fear of losing support from Scotland, where it is feared that darker mornings will prove more dangerous than darker evenings.  It has taken a tory - Tim Yeo - to try once again to put the matter of a Central European time zone on the agenda, but parliamentary time for a bill has been denied by government.

It would be good to think that such an obvious change as bringing British time into line with the rest of Europe was not a partisan issue.  Sadly that does not seem to be the British way.  It will take pressure from opposition parties and public opinion to make this timorous government decide that it was a Labour initiative all along, and to do what has been the public will for many, many years.

In the meantime, I will continue selfishly to enjoy the extra daylight our recent move has given me, and leave my fellow Brits still in the home country to continue to enjoy their Twilight Zone until action is finally taken.

To my mind, this does not represent grounds for complacency from Her Majesty's opposition, particularly in view of the rough patch which the Prime Minister currently seems to be going through.

Yet the Daily Mail's Quentin Letts gives vent to a vicious article in Thursday's edition of the rag (sorry, journal) referring to the Prime Minister's performance at Question Time as "More like Frank Spencer than (a) great statesman".

Those of you who remember the character Frank Spencer will know that his haplessness elicited much laughter, which (whatever one's political views) can hardly be said of our Prime Minister.

Good political commentators are a rare breed.  I enjoy reading their pithy comments, no matter which side they are supporting, and getting to the bottom of what is actually happening in Parliament.

Letts cannot be considered among this genre.  His article is totally lacking in depth and content and seems to have been put together purely to earn points from his right-wing paymasters.  Were his piece featured in a Tory propoganda sheet, I would dismiss it as another example of arrogance.  But Letts is writing for a national newspaper (if I may refer to the Daily Mail in such generous terms) and really should know better.  For Letts, the fact that David Cameron seems to put up a better performance at Question Time is evidence that he is the more competent and trustworthy politician. 

After ten years of the highly adept Tony Blair at the dispatch box, dismissing leader after leader of the opposition with his brilliant oratory, it is something of a refreshing change to have a Prime Minister who shows that he does not always give the performance of an accomplished lawyer, but rather shows his human side.

We did not have the benefit of televised broadcasts from the House of Commons in the late nineteen forties.  If we did, I imagine we would have seen many similar exchanges as last Wednesday's between the labour Prime Minister Clement Atlee and Tory leader Sir Winston Churchill.  Churchill's eloquence and turn of phrase was legendary.  But is was Atlee's government that made for real change in British society after the Second World War.

Let's hear more about the substance than the waffle, Mr Letts.  Then you may earn your colours as a political commentator of some esteem.