Dear Santa

Just in case you don't know about it yet, the Great Doctor has a new book out - a collection of his Spectator pieces.


Drug addicts and desperate drunks, battered wives and suicidal burglars, elderly Alzheimer's sufferers and teenage stabbing victims. They all pass through Theodore Dalrymple's surgery, and he uses the experience of treating them to examine life for those unfortunate enough to live at the bottom end of society. He writes with a combination of dry humour, compassion and, occasionally, anger - mostly at the inhuman bureaucracy of the system, which works against the doctors and nurses as they try to help their patients.

I haven't read it yet, obviously, but amidst the gloom of Labour's eugenics programme to breed the British, starting with the Right, out of existence or at least out of power in our own country if we don't choose to be Left Hand Path, plus David Cameron's apostasy ( or is it his time-delayed truthfulness?) that he won't hold a referendum to see which countries will govern Britain after the Lisbon Cosntitution is inserted into our body politic by Brown, Mandelson, & Co, it' still nice to know that someone's still providing us with much that we need to know about the bottoms-up Trahison des Clercs as the local and quango State has been destroying the people and their morality on an individual basis.

No doubt it will be presented in his familiar beautiful prose: full of wit and human understanding, and the dagger of his irony will be so much the sharper and more deadly, as always, to the snake-oil philosophies of the United Left for having its edge hidden in silk until it is too late.


Cancel the Space Hopper request please, Father Christmas - I want this one instead.