They just dont get it.

Old Mugabe is in trouble again. Bet he's quaking in his boots.

Human rights abuses in Zimbabwe, worsening from an already lower than low point before the decision to remove 700,000 people from their homes, are now at such a level that the British government has decided to act at last.

'Wahey', I hear you cry. 'What will be their punishment for this effective genocide of his own people we constantly are reading about? How will our goverment help these poor people? Please tell us Watski and make it quick'

Will the UN be deployed? Will tougher sanctions be instilled on an already starving population? Will a rogue leader be ousted in a US/UK funded internal revolt to help world peace? Will we go the whole hog and 'booooomb the bastards' Kenny Everett style?

Not quite.

Jack Straw has written a strong letter to the ICC asking for Zimbabwe to be banned from cricket.

That'll show Mugabe. You don't mess with Britain otherwise this is what happens.

No laughing at the back.

Guess who's back - Watski's back

And so I return. From my all too brief hiatus. Please direct all emails suggesting a longer hiatus to my literary agent.

And I return differently. As a role model, as a guider, as a looker outer and as a holder. My chest is puffed out regularly and there is a skip in my step.

Watski is now officially an Uncle. Oh yes. The lady has well and truly dropped the sprog.

'Uncle Watski' has a nice ring to it. Never did I think I'd hear those words without them being accompanied by 'I am arresting you and confiscating your puppies, lollipops and DVD collection'.

When good machines go bad...

Needing to draw out a bit of money to maintain my lavish lifestyle (pay some bills) I wandered up to the cash machine, inserted my card and entered the pin number.

"How much would you like to withdraw?" The big green letters asked me.

"Hmmm, well I need about £600." I thought, so I typed that number in.

"Sorry, you can only withdraw up to £400". The big green letters shouted again.

"Well ok, £400 it is" I said as I typed £400 in.

"Sorry, you can only withdraw up to £200." It flashed at me again.

"Oh, I see. Being like that are we? Well I'll have £200 then." I said as I typed £200 in.

"Sorry, incorrect pin. Would you like to try again?" It laughed at me.

I retyped the pin number, more carefully this time, making sure it was the right one.

"Sorry, incorrect pin. Would you like to try again?" It teased

"What and let you tell me it isn't the right one and confiscate my card to round off a good day. Sod that, give it here" I muttered as pressed the 'no I fucking dont want to try again you fucking stupid machine' button - which doesn't actually exist, but should - and retrieved my card out.

I swear I felt it hold onto the card a little longer than it normally does too.

As I walked away cashless I wondered whether the machine ever wanted to give me any money in the first place.