This is the funniest thing I've seen for a long time. I mean, fair enough. No one reads the Daily Mail for quality journalism and if anyone does they're a total ming mong. In fact, Lars Von Triers Antichrist, the film in question, is, if we're honest, the kind of film that no Daily Mail reader would go and see anyway. But to write a review of a film they haven't seen and have no intention of seeing is bad enough. To manage to use it to criticise not only the EU, the BBFC, this government and to concede that he doesn't blame 'our jihadist enemies' for wanting to destroy our decadent society is nothing short of comic genius. And then to confuse Dutch with Danish (it's been corrected now). This article should be used in journalism school as an example of satire at its pinnacle. If it's not satire then Christopher Hart, the writer, is a truly pathetic twat of the first order. A perfect writer for the Daily Mail then.

Here's the link: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-1200742/CHRISTOPHER-HART-What-DOES-film-banned-days.html Read it. Laugh your intestines out. And read the replies. All of them. Some of them are quite sane (obviously stumbled across it by mistake and aren't regular readers) but some of them, particularly the one who thanks him for protecting the children, are priceless.

I wasn't that bothered about seeing this, to be honest. It's at the top of my list now. I was starting to get a bit apathetic about things but I've now been reminded in the best possible way that, to quote the wise Mr Lydon, anger is an energy. Thank you, Daily Mail!

When I was chugging down the Tyne with Val McDermid a couple of months ago, we were, over a few bottles of red, putting the world to rights. Needless to say, Hazel Blears came up in the conversation. I reckoned that Blears would have been brilliant in the Nazi High Command. Val just looked at me. An explanation beckoned. Blears, I said, was the kind of person who would do well in any political administration, whether it was New Labour, Old Labour or even the Third Reich. Because her job was to be a cheerleader for that administration no matter what it was or what it stood for and she was bloody good at her job. Val saw my point.

And, if I needed even more ammunition against that dreadful woman (Blears, not Val) she was on Newsnight saying it was a writer's duty (or wordsmith's, as she patronisingly referred to us) not to offend anyone at all. Is that right, Blears? Not offend anyone? Even a squirrel-faced, twat-brained, punchable midget like yourself? There. That's better. Not that she'll be reading this. But still . . .

Which brings me to Torchwood. Or Torchwood:Children of Earth, to give it its full title. Because that's what my week seems to have consisted of or revolved round. And absolutely bloody brilliant it was too. I must confess, I've always had a soft spot for Torchwood. Even the first series when it was being loudly derided had its moments. The second series was damn good television. But this third one . . . I don't think I'll see a better piece of TV all year. To tell a story that has as its themes love and sacrifice, specifically the lengths you'd go to in the latter to protect the former, and how easy it is for a society to slip into fascism and anarchy, was brilliant. And to tell it all in an unashamedly science fiction format on prime time TV was nothing short of genius.

By the end of the week (or by the end of Thursday's episode, really) I was in tears. Either it was exceptionally moving or I'm emotionally fragile at the moment. But it was damned good stuff. The scenes in Number 10 with the cabinet deciding just which children should be sacrificed was chilling. No other word for it. Because you can imagine it happening. In fact, it already has. Records exist of a similar meeting of Nazi middle managers to decide what to do about the Jewish problem. They sat round a table discussing the most efficient and cost effective way of processing units (thats herding human beings into gas chambers to you and me) and came up with the concentration camps. Episode four of Torchwood echoed that very strongly. And yes, there was a Hazel Blears figure right in the middle of it, cheerleading. In fact, her character's rationalisation of the whole thing, of which children to sacrifice and why was brilliant, excruciating drama. And I wanted to punch her in the face.

But there was so much more to commend it. Peter Capaldi was, as always, stunning. As was Nicholas Farrell. And the regular Torchwood team were, possibly for the last time, wonderful. Especially Eve Myles who can do no wrong.

Anyway, if anyone's reading this I'm sorry for banging on about it. It's nothing to do with crime fiction or any of the stuff I usually bleat on about but it's not often I see a piece of drama - in any format, TV, theatre, cinema, whatever - that moves me the way this has done. It's a Quatermass for the 21st Century, it's serious political issues delivered in a popular format, it's proper big sci-fi, it's drama that maps out the deficiencies and wonder of the human heart, it's brilliant. I can't praise it enough and I hope they bring it back.

But Russell T Davis has moved on now. Wonder if they want a new writer for it . . .