Litter Police

I'm getting a little too punch-drunk to keep posting evidence of how England is lost, but this one caught my eye because of the photo.

It seems that the "litter police" with powers to issue on-the-spot fines are now spying on people in anticipation of their dropping a butt.

But look at that worm writing down the details: he was born to the task. Can you imagine his private life, what it's like when he gets home and sits his family down to High Tea? Oh boy - his kid and Stevie Fowler's would have a lot in common.

No, but look at him. If I was a documentary maker wanting to recreate England's lowest moments, I'd call up Central Casting:

"Yes, hello, I'm making a film about London back in 2009 when we had those appalling types going round looking for smoker litter bugs to pounce on, and I want someone to play one of the "Black Watch". Tough one, I know."

"No worries, chief. Can do."

"No, I don't think you quite understand: I want someone to not only play a cunt but look the precise part."

"Oki problemo, squire."

"Oh dear. Perhaps I should talk to someone else, I'm clearly not getting thru. I'm after an out-and-out arse-hole, someone whose cuntliness positively leaps from the photograph."

"Got you. I'll send Cyril right round."

That is indeed our man.