A crack anti-terrorist raid,
To one London bomb strike put paid,
But how many plotters
Are trying to swat us
And what other plans have they laid?

Yesterday Ustinov leapt off
This anecdotal coil,
To guest on celestial chat shows
(When Oscar Wilde goes off the boil).

Then today Alistair Cooke signed
His last 'Sincerely yours,'
And, sealing the envelope softly,
He sent himself back to home shores.

On organised crime, Mr Blunkett
Affirmed he'd not rest 'til he'd sunk it,
So he's set up a squad,
With more powers than God:
"Illiberal? Like it or lump it!"

"IDS cleared in Betsygate probe";
"Methane on mars means there may be microbes"...
Two stories may tell of worlds far apart,
But both to me smell like a deal of old farts.