A weekly column reproduced from the Bristol Evening Post

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The editor of this impressive organ telephones me from a tattoo shop in Old Market in a state of some excitement.

“Bazza,” he cries. “How do you spell Kate Adie?” That’s when I knew it was getting serious. If Khyber Kate is on the job, this is war for sure.

But why are we dropping food on the poor old Afghanis? Those tins must hurt when they bounce off your bonce. Aren’t bombs enough? And is it really necessary to drop emergency rations into the middle of minefields?

What are we trying to do? See just how hungry people are?

Perhaps this is just another example of Crap Equipment Syndrome, which has left our soldiers with rifles and radios that don’t work properly. The Navy is even worse off, having to pretend they’re firing shells because they have no ammunition for gunnery practice.

That must be fun. Fancy sailing up to an angry Afghani and shouting “Bang”? No, I thought not. Join the Navy and see the business end of a Kalashnikov. Surely we can do better than this?

What about a suicide camel, with four tons of explosive strapped to its back and wearing lipstick? From what I’ve heard, that’d be a welcome addition to any terrorist camp. I’m surprised The Guardian hasn’t suggested it.

And now we’re reduced to carpet-bombing the enemy with tins of sell-by-date corned beef and Linda McCartney meat-free sausages. Something must be done.

Perhaps Mr Blah should take a break from swanning around like a poor man’s Winston Churchill and sort this situation out. What a shyster that man is. He’ll be smoking a cigar and waving V-signs next. There we are, with lives at stake, and he exploits the post-Manhattan confusion to sneak in a plan to lumber us with the Euro. Will nothing stop him?

Never mind replacing the Taliban. Maybe we’re the ones in need of a bit of democracy.

There’s more…