Oh, yes, and socks. I can’t remember what kind of socks, because they’re under the duvet.

In a brief foray upstairs to make more lemon & honey (I’m paracetamol-intolerant, whatever the hell that means, so any of the conventional cold medications turn me into a shivering, vomitous wreck) I discovered the first curious vista I wish to offer you this morning.

US politics is pretty bare knuckle. I mean, sure, it’s not Ukraine, where you can get poisoned with organophosphates. But it’s rough and tumble.

So, over here in the UK we’ve been watching the grand bedroom farce of Peter Mandelson, George Osborne, and Oleg Deripaska, in which Nathaniel Rothschild was so annoyed at the bad manners of one of his guests in going public with private conversations that he took him over his metaphorical knee and spanked him. (You should really read the letter. It’s a corker.)

Ultimately, this whole thing is a row over a faux pas. George Osborne is in trouble because he used the wrong fork on purpose.