Is Twitter now the de facto medium of preference for public policy, social commentary, personal gratification and, erm, everything? Am I right to be scared?
Is writing a Christmas present wish list of any use to anyone over ten? I asked for a dressing gown and got a Kindle. So other people are obviously better at writing my list than I am.
How many shirts do I need? How many shirts have I got? Why do I only like four of them?
As an Englishman living in England, should I be given a vote in the Scottish independence referendum, if any? (West Lothian readers need not reply.)
Is there any obligation or expectation to blog even when you have nothing to say?
Why can’t I think of anything else I don’t want to write about? Oh, hang on, I know this one …