If it wasn’t for the wonderfully compassionate carers at the home, I’m pretty sure we’d be utterly lost.

There’s little point in ranting on here (he said, before ranting on.) We treat dying animals better than we do dying people. I haven’t yet met a person of faith to convince me that any of their holy books are worth the paper I wipe my arse with, but it seems that as wonderful as science is, technology is torture without morality.

I’m not talking about the morals some guy brings down a mountain, or whatever, but of the ideas and ideals we must take a firm hold of and shake when medicine prolongs the body, but not the mind.

We live in a great age of understanding and wonder. The need for the crutch of religion is more distant even, than the American spacecraft accelerating out of the barrier beyond our solar system.

And yet we cling with our petty morals and beliefs to the feeling that the essence of life itself is more precious than an absence of suffering. Because of this nobody will take a chance or act emphatically for fear of the ambulance chasers and the twisted rhetoric of the tabloids.

The woman who was in the news the other day, screaming at the health secretary – she’s my hero. Because if people that believe that deeply about something that doesn’t involve a deity can hold their ground, speak their mind, and not blow that whole squabble and all its paparazzi to kingdom come, then there’s still hope for us all.

It’s midnight, it doesn’t look like we’re going to run out of whisky any time soon, and we’re waiting for that phonecall.

I prayed last night. My Nan is still alive in that bed. Fuck you, God.

Let’s end on a happy note. I was larking about with my cousin and a kind person filmed this:

My cousin and I, performing an impromptu acoustic rendition of our smash hit ‘Johnny Depp’ in front of a raucous audience of one.

I’ve heard rumour of Depp cashing in on the success of our tune by acting in movies. I don’t condone that.

I put in a Freedom of Information request last month to their HQ; I found a popular template, which helped make me sound smart, and added my query, which didn’t:

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am studying Journalism at Teesside University and am writing to make an open government request for all the information to which I am entitled under the freedom of information act. In order to assist you with this request, I am outlining my query as specifically as possible.

If however this request is too wide or too unclear, I would be grateful if you could contact me as I understand that under the act, you are required to advise and assist requesters.

My request in part concerns the scale and effect of last year’s English riots, and remembers the worldwide cost of the preparation for Y2K which was put at over US$300 billion.

My question is: What systems, protocols and resources does Cleveland Police have in place for any social disorder or cataclysm - heavenly or otherwise - coming to pass as a result of the end of this 5,125-year-long B’ak’tun of the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar; an event commonly referred to as the Mayan Prophecy for December 21st 2012.

I understand that under the act, I should be entitled to a response within 20 working days. I would be grateful if you could confirm in writing that you have received this request. I look forward to hearing from you in the near future.

Yours sincerely

Chris Parlett

I waited patiently, grew impatient, wrote to them again, and then yesterday received the following letter in the post:

I received no such email. Is my correspondence being monitored and intercepted? Have I uncovered something big here? The incorrect use of a question mark at the end of the final sentence – is that code for something? Is Elaine McGuigan reaching out to me or warning me of rendition to come?

I’ll need to tread very carefully from here on in but it’s hard to know if I’m being followed with so many police cars on the streets. This needs to stay between us; I don’t know who else I can trust.

My life as I knew it is over.

Still, it’s not the end of the world.

Now I was living in Glasgow last year and I voted for Alex Salmond’s SNP, thinking it a good thing as I’d recently walked up the Wallace Monument and had rekindled a healthy sense of colonial guilt; instead, it turns out I was shooting myself and every other red-blooded English liberal in the foot.

But then, during a lecture today, we were asked to take the Political Compass test, whereby I was reminded that there is no such thing as left-wing in English politics anymore; that Thatcher was more right wing than Hitler; and that despite what I believed to be pretty hardcore beliefs regarding rights and punishment, it turns out I’m more of a left-leaning pansy than Ghandi, and more of a libertarian nut-job than Ayn Rand (possibly).

Learn more about yourself at www.politicalcompass.org...

So there I am, my core beliefs as synonymous with His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama’s, as the British National Party’s are with another famous vegetarian. Not that Hitler was vegetarian, after all, but let’s not hold that against him.

Another matter brought up today was how the proliferation of social media is changing the way companies decide who they employ; the point being, if you’ve been tagged lording it up at that bukkake club in Amsterdam, potential employers may not feel that such an individual has a place in childcare.

The same goes for swearing, bigotry, dodgy behaviour and largely just being an arsehole; our online persona will be used more and more as an extension of our CV, and only a fool would tweet, blog, upload or be identified in questionable content.

Well, future prospective employer, let me tell you, I’ve had a few jobs in my time, and I’ve upset my fair share of motherfuckers like yourself. In the past I have stolen, rallied dissent, and generally behaved in a manner both insubordinate and unashamedly apathetic. I will drink, abuse substances, and with a libertine’s approach to the fairer sex upset and offend in the most pathetic manner appropriate.

My true allegiance is not to state or crown, countryman or employer; it is to humanity as a whole, to the fragile system that keeps us breathing on this rock of ours, and to the libraries and museums that future children will gasp in wonder within.

Chances are, I’m down on my luck and looking for a job in your restaurant, my pithy dreams of writing for a living dashed by my urges; and here you are, wondering if this hirsute degenerate is worth the pocketful of coins you’ll leave him with once he’s drunk enough of your watered-down pish to forget the day’s work and your terrible face.

You think yourself quite the auteur don’t you, staring into your screen; Detective Cuntybaws is on the case, sorting the wheat from the chaff. I bet you bought a new car that runs on petrol/diesel didn’t you, even though you don’t drive enough during the day to warrant it. Could have paid a little extra and gone for an electric car but no – not flash enough was it. Small cock? Fat and barren? You dick.

I hope future generations clone hordes of you from the scrap of unmourned bones in a pauper’s grave bearing your epitaph and set this army of bastard pigfuckers to work terraforming whichever distant, dusty ball people like you have forced our species to emigrate to.

Oh, and I’m also not above knocking out a giggety in the employee bathroom and adding it to your lunch.

But hey, me and the Dalai Lama. Wow.

I think these examples of my effete lisp are proof positive that should this journalism malarky go to the dogs, there’s always work for me in pre-war Hampshire commentating lawn bowls.

On an almost unrelated note, would any Teesside based single ladies over the age of thirty that could imagine this voice, tinged with impatience, slurring suggestions of a sexual nature through their letterbox at 3am please get in contact. Please.

Sam Howitt and I wondered what on earth possesed them to study here, of all places, but realised quickly that such a loaded question would never get a straight answer. Instead we badgered politely a select few for their impressions of the university and the surrounding town. We asked them what experiences they would take back home with them and if there was anything they wanted to get off their chests.

It seemed wise also to speak to the man who knows the most about the internationals at Teesside: Martin Pout, Assistant Dean for Marketing & Recruitment in the School of Arts & Media. He gave us a very informative interview and is a credit to the university.

We hope you find this shaky three minute snapshot to be a valuable insight into the ways and mind of the international student at Teesside University.

Sad about something? Don’t even bother reading this then - have another piece of chocolate, you deserve it, everything’s going to be just fine.

In Britain, welfare amounts to over 30% of overall public spending. If we ignore the bail outs – and we should, because £1.2 trillion could have built schools on the moon – then that’s the single largest area of public expenditure; a provision to guarantee a basic standard of living for all those in financial need.

The Welfare Reform Bill of 2011 was the biggest change to the welfare system for over 60 years. One element is the introduction of Universal Credit, a ‘streamlined’ replacement for six of the main means-tested benefits and tax credits that is said will ‘ensure work always pays.’

A fortnight ago, another change – the replacement of Disability Living Allowance (DLA) with a Personal Independence Payment (PIP) – was the reason hundreds of thousands of Twitter users were trending #spartacusreport, relating to Responsible Reform, a 37 page independent report into the alleged general awfulness of the DLA reforms.

Maria Miller, the disability minister, has claimed that £600m is overpaid to those that do not qualify for the allowance. She called for a need for reassessment to be built into the system – DWP assessments put underpayments at £190m – as 70% of people receive DLA for life and their condition will change over time.

These figures, and their interpretation, have been questioned and challenged; in the end, many say, a person’s health is never a simple case of black and white.

People already receiving DLA who are under 16 or over 65 will not be eligible for PIP. Another possibility for the disabled is Employment and Support Allowance, the replacement for Incapacity Benefit. Those over 65 may be awarded Attendance Allowance if they need help with personal care.

Currently, benefits are divided into two categories: Contributory and Non-contributory. Contributory are awarded subject to sufficient NI payments, and include contributions-based Jobseeker’s Allowance (JSA) and Incapacity Benefit. Non-contributory benefits are mostly needs-based payments with no regard to prior NI contributions; they are available to anyone whose income falls below a certain level or fulfils other criteria (e.g. disability for DLA); these include the basic level of JSA and income support. Child Benefit is ‘universal’ and is paid irrespective of financial circumstance.

JSA is paid to adults actively seeking work or working fewer than 16 hours per week. Those with savings over £6000 will either receive reduced benefits or none at all.

Our government’s “draconian” plans to limit the amount of benefits a single household receives have, again, outraged many. The House of Lords will vote today on a cap of £26,000 annually; an amount a leaked government paper says will push one hundred thousand children into poverty.

Ministers say the measure is about reducing dependency and encouraging people back to work. DLA/PIP isn’t included and there are calls for Child Benefit to also be excluded from the calculation.

Iain Duncan Smith has admitted that the vote could go against him but that “most people would subscribe to (not being able to) on benefits, earn more than if you went out and worked.”

Fortunately, a report into low pay was published last week describing the impact of low pay in national supermarkets. 900,000 people work for Tesco, Asda, Sainsbury’s and Morrisons – the largest employer block outside of the NHS – and the rewards for the CEOs are high, starting at 3.2m for Justin King of Sainsbury’s and topping off at 6.9m for Philip Clarke of Tesco. Yet while these companies recognise the national minimum wage, they do not pay the UK living wage.

With nearly two thirds of children in poverty living in working families who are reliant on tax credits, it turns out that tax credits are just a less controversial way of saying that the taxpayer subsidises the wages of the poor whilst, as we’re hearing all too often, the rich laugh all the way to our banks.

And with almost three million unemployed, who’s going to complain?

And today I was asking people around campus what they found attractive in members of the same sex.

Shits and giggles really.

Tian Tian staying out of the morning rain on her side of the new home she shares with male panda, Yang Guang.

Tian Tian (Sweetie) and Yang Guang (Sunshine), Edinburgh Zoo’s latest guests, are “settling in well” and “very happy” according to our well informed and friendly guide during my Christmas visit to the zoo’s new £250,000 panda enclosure.

Yang Guang gets through 55kg of bamboo every day, almost double what Tian Tian eats.

The giant pandas arrived from China on the 4th December but the public weren’t able to see them until the 16th as the eight year olds needed some time to recuperate after their long flight. Already, thousands have flocked to see the pair although not everyone seems to be a fan; from jealous Penguins in the neighbouring enclosure pooping on the queueing public, to Tian Tian  causing some controversy with her addition to the ‘Women’ category of the BBC’s Faces of the Year.

Tian Tian and Yang Guang - both parents already, though not together – live separately for the time being, just as they would in the wild. They are able to see each other through the windows of their indoor enclosures or, should they wish, from the highest branches of their outdoor enclosures.

Yang Guang's outdoor enclosure: Just add pandas (and £70,000 of food each year)

The separate areas are joined by what keepers have nicknamed “the love tunnel.” They believe Tian Tian could be in heat perhaps as early as February and in case any romance turns sour will be on hand with fire extinguishers; but the pandas have had a sniff of each other already and no agression has been reported – in fact, Yang Guang is already calling out for Tian Tian.

Sadly, Ching Ching died before she had any cubs.

The pair are the only Giant Pandas in the UK and the first in 17 years; interestingly, the fantastic National Museum of Scotland - also in Edinburgh – is home to Ching Ching who in 1974, along with her partner Chia Chia, was a gift from China to London Zoo. The new pair will cost £640,000 each year for their ten year stay, however their predecessors were an example of Panda Diplomacy, an extremely successful cold war practice that saw nine countries receive 23 Giant Pandas from China between 1958 and 1982.

That’s not to say that this new arrangement is without its critics and naysayers: some believe the costs outweigh the benefits or that the hefty price tag would be better spent on conservation. Others, such as Free Tibet, argue that the Pandas, as “gorgeous as they are” are but a “charm offensive” and a smokescreen for an unelected regime with an “abysmal human rights record.”

Watch Edinburgh Zoo’s Giant Panda Cam

Get your coat, love - you've mulled.

Wherever you are right now, dear reader, my money’s on it being cold outside. Granted you could be somewhere temperate – the southern hemisphere for instance  – in which case why not bookmark this for winter, because the last thing you want right now is a hot mug of spice infused heaven washing down your bare, tanned, fortunate throat. But for those of us who have to wrap up warm to walk the streets and – in a job without windows – wouldn’t see the sun until March, I have a tasty little treat for you that, like all treats, is ripe for abuse.

I only discovered Gløgg – hot spiced wine – a few years ago in Scandinavia, and much like when I first stumbled across masturbation, I decided it surely had to be my own invention rather than an encounter with something people have been enjoying for a long, long time; otherwise however did people manage to leave the house in winter?

After many good nights around Danish stoves putting the world to rights I was pleased to find that Gløgg indeed existed over here, going by the name of Mulled Wine. Over there, you can get a small bottle of mixture and just throw that in with the cheapest rot-gut red wine you can find; you can also get Gløgg ready made – all you need to do is warm it up; Irma does the best we found, which is where we discovered the joy of adding rum to the mix. Over here, I’ve seen ready made mulled wine in the supermarkets but it’s dearer and not as fun so have yet to try it.

Anyway, as part of the necessary festive preparations for cajoling my spirit into feeling anything other than melancholy deviancy, I recently made my first Gløgg of the season. A full and detailed recipe comes later but for this first batch I cheated and used Schwartz Mulled Wine Spice. Grab a box of it for a quid-something in the supermarket and you get six tea-bag type sachets with the spices in. I appeared to have an older box and one with a ‘Great New Taste’ – the older one suggested brandy in the recipe so I went with that:

• 75cl bottle red wine (I measured it out of one of those bladders in a box)
• 200ml orange juice (I squeezed in the juice from half an orange)
• 3 tbs brown sugar (I just used granulated sugar)
• 150ml brandy (I had 35cl of rum and 225cl of wine so I just poured in a rough third of the rum)
• 1 orange, sliced (for zesty garnish, and the scraps I squeezed and added to the mix)
• 2 of the spice sachets

Basically, I just threw everything except the rum and orange slices into a saucepan and slowly heated the mix til just below boiling point (don’t forget and leave it to boil) and kept it there for ten minutes, at the end I added the rum and the slices – one per mug.

You can do it all from scratch – and I tend to have most of the spices from making curries and the like – but you have to piss about with measuring and sieving which is fine for the first batch but after a few vats have been consumed and the banter has turned to darker avenues then everything invariably descends into a ‘kids cooking breakfast for mummy in a meth lab’ situation.

For those of you who already have a decently stocked kitchen or are prepared to head out to the market to buy a load of spices you may well – after the initial childlike joy has worn off – never use again, here is a good recipe:

• 1 bottle of red wine (some use port or a mixture of both)
• 150ml dark rum (try also vodka, whisky, schnapps or aquavit if you fancy)
• 10 cardamom pods (cracked open)
• 5 whole cloves
• 1 cinnamon stick (break into pieces)
• The dried peel of half an orange
• 3 tbs brown sugar (honey is a fine substitute)
• 1/2 cup orange juice

1. Slowly dissolve the sugar in the rum over a low heat.
2. Meanwhile, tie all the dry ingredients up in a clean tea-towel.
3. Add the wine and juice to the rum and sugar together with the spice bag.
4. Be careful not to boil but keep the heat high for 45mins (I say 45 but you’ll get impatient and start drinking it after 30 but that’s fine.)
5. If so inclined, add one small handful of raisins and one of sliced almonds at the same time as the wine; serve a little in each of the mugs but for the love of god check that nobody has a nut allergy (like me) and NO, serving them a drink without nuts in it doesn’t negate the threat, you idiot.
6. Above all, don’t be afraid to experiment; adding more sugar or liquor for taste can be a delicate balancing act but after a few large mugs you’ll find such matters matter less.

By the way, there’s never any harm in reheating a mug of Gløgg in the microwave; in fact, if you have a cooking pot large – and clean – enough you can make a motherload up then people can just go ladle themselves a drink then gently nuke it.

Just be aware, Gløgg is tasty, tasty, sugary rocket fuel for the cold times that can be enjoyed by young and old alike. It can send you off to cosy dream land or if enjoyed copiously in suitable company could see you wrestling with a stranger, half naked and covered in broken glass, swearing at the police in German when they came to arrest me.

Glædelig Jul og Godt Nyt År! or as they say this time of year where I come from: Get your fucking hands off my drink, you pig. I hate you, why did I ever marry you? You disgusting, pitiful man.

NAUGHTY OR NICE? Santa Claus is the latest name to be implicated in the phone hacking scandal.

Children across the world had their world shaken today when the Leveson enquiry into phone hacking saw Father Christmas taken into custody by Northumbria Police.

Exact details are not known at this time, however it is understood that the arrest took place at Santa’s Magical Christmas Grotto in The Mall Shopping Centre, Middlesbrough just before 9am this morning.

Santa’s elf was seen to struggle with police at the scene; Mr Christmas has been reported by one witness as shouting: “Leave it, Barry!” as he was led away in handcuffs. The elf has since been charged with assaulting a police officer and is currently being treated for minor injuries at James Cook University Hospital.

A Police spokesman said: “An individual was arrested earlier this morning and is currently assisting us with our enquiries. Owing to the sensitive nature of his identity we will not be releasing any more information at this time, suffice it to say that I’m really just the messenger here and this should in no way implicate me as naughty, Santa.”

Whilst many involved in the Leveson Enquiry have spoken off the record in defence of Mr Christmas – describing the allegations as hearsay or a politically motivated smear campaign – few could deny the impact of the arrest coming less than two weeks before Christmas Eve.

Allegations of phone hacking and police bribery are not new to the North Pole workshop where Father Christmas and his elves make the toys for all the children in the world but this is the first time the authorities have made an arrest. It is not known how this will affect the Christmas Eve delivery or if there is a contingency plan for such an event as the Yuletide incarceration of such a vital individual.

Britney Scaffold (9) from Linthorpe said, “I knew that Santa had to have a way of knowing if I was naughty or nice but I thought he used magic, like Jesus.”

Mrs Christmas could not be reached for comment.