Kermit the campaigner

IT is hard to believe how quickly the Prince of Wales's first wife has passed out of memory. On a visit to Wolverhampton recently, her former butler said he would never reveal all her secrets. I wonder what percentage of the population can name the butler - or even the princess.

AFTER my piece on meaningless motorway-gantry signs (DRIVE TO CONDITIONS) and the gibberish of Ed Miliband's latest slogan ( LABOUR HARDWORKING BRITAIN BETTER OFF), the odd belief that any random collection of words conveys information seems to be spreading. My new jeans from M&S are, according to the label, "Relaxed through the thigh to the opening."

THE really worrying part is not that such slogans mean nothing. It is that so-called educated people in authority think they do.

THERE are many bowel conditions and many colorectal surgeons. So full marks to the Association of Coloproctology which has just published a basic A-Z guide on its website to help patients find the best surgeon to help them. It is a simple idea but simple ideas are often the best.

THERE is, however, no collective noun to describe a group of colorectal surgeons. A clench?

AS he campaigns for women soldiers in the front line and sneers at the Army's "macho" image, Defence Secretary Philip Hammond seems to be suffering from SSS – Selective Squaddie Syndrome. Hammond has never served in the armed forces. He knows only what he is shown. The army's PR machine is brilliant at choosing the right sort of soldiers to introduce to politicians: the bright, articulate officers and NCOs of the headquarters and technical corps. It is easy for a minister, meeting such people, to assume that the army is a clean, clever, high-tech sort of institution where all the jobs should be open to both sexes. Hammond should try spending a few nights on exercise or operations with a typical infantry platoon. They are the ones whose job, to seize and hold the ground, has changed little in thousands of years. In the last resort they do it with with rifle butt, fists and bayonet, so close to the enemy that they can smell his dying breath. These are warriors who kill and are killed in much the same way as King Henry's muddy, bloody warhammer-wielding band of brothers at Agincourt. Their job is so filthy, foul, demeaning and stressful that it can, and often does, send them mad. It is a terrible tragedy that in the 21st century we still need men to do such things. And only a politician utterly unaware of the reality of battle would want women to do the same.

AS THE world west of the Urals applauds the Eurovision winner Conchita Wurst for pushing back the barriers of tolerance, let us celebrate a great amphibian pioneer. In the early days of the Muppets, Kermit appeared in drag to sing "I've Grown Accustomed to Your Face." Lest we forget, despite the wig and pearls, Kermit was not a female. Mind you, he wasn't a frog either

MEANWHILE, a breathless world awaits President Putin's appearance to denounce Conchita as all that is wrong with the rotten, decadent West. Why is it taking so long? Is Putin waiting until he has grown a bigger beard?

THE only acceptable narrative in these politically-correct times, of course, is that Conchita is a bold and fearless crusader for tolerance. Those of us who suspect it's just a drag act with a brilliant marketing gimmick keep our peace or risk death by a thousand Tweets.

THE Princess was Diana. Her butler? Well, who cares?