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gave a happy hoorah as the recount was announced.
    â€œWe’re going to be here a long time,” said Bernard Shaw in the CNN studios. I poured bourbon on my cornflakes and leaned forward happily.
    What made it the more enjoyable is that Bernard and his presenters were in for the long haul with me. Everyone in the studio had their own turf: Bernie and his team were on the Big Desk, Wolf Blitzer was looking lovably bristly over at the Balance of Power Desk, and one Hal Bruno was forced to stand beside what looked like a weatherman’s synoptic chart.
    â€œHow you doing, Hal?” asked Bernie at around 10am our time.
    â€œI’ve been standing for the last 10 hours, how do you think I feel? Back to you at the Big Desk, Bernie,” said Hal through clenched teeth.
    As the broadcast entered its 13th hour, Bernie and the gang veered between hysteria and downright prickliness. One Ed Kast – some manner of Florida state election official speaking to the team from ground zero – seemed personable enough, but as far as information went, he may as well have been a Missouri voter.
    The Big Desk was not amused. “How long will it take to recount the votes, Ed Kast?” asked William Schneider.
    â€œWe’ll start as soon as we can,” Ed Kast assured him.
    â€œYes, Ed Kast, but how long will it take?” snarled Schneider.
    â€œWell,” said Ed Kast, “that will depend on how long it takes to recount the votes.”
    In between the election coverage, CNN provided all manner of interesting news from around the world. I learnt that Truck Expo 2000 is currently being broadcast live on Romanian television. A man wearing a paste-on Eastern European moustache appeared in front of a poster of a truck to tell us that it is a great day for Romanian television.
    â€œIt is not just trucks,” he said, “but also truck parts and truck accessories.” I was just raising a spoon of cornflakes to toast the fact that I am not a Romanian TV columnist when we were back in the studio. William Schneider was thumping his forehead on the Big Desk, softly keening: “When can we go home? When can we go home?”
    â€œBreaking news!” announced Bernie gamely. “The election is not over. Let me repeat that: the election is not over!”
    William Schneider looked up hopefully. “Are you wrapping up, Bernie?” he asked.
    â€œNo, no,” said Bernie, “I just wanted to say that before I forgot it.”
    By that time I was beginning to flag. Twelve hours is a long time to watch someone else’s election. Unlike Bernie, I was not being paid overtime. As I staggered to bed, I heard William Schneider’s head hit the desk again.
    â€œWake up, Bill,” begged Bernie, “we’ve got Ed Kast back on the line.”

A Christmas story
    SUNDAY INDEPENDENT, 24 DECEMBER 2000
    T HERE ARE FEW good Christmas stories. Christmas stories, by and large, are too caught up in their own Christmasness to be any good as stories. Indeed, Christmas stories are similar to Christmas cards – their purpose is not to be honest or to entertain, but to perform a dutiful and imprecise sort of gesture.
    They always have a message. Messages do not make for good stories. Messages should either be sealed in a bottle and thrown into the sea, or written in lemon juice in the white space between the lines of the story. If the readers want the message badly enough, let them hold up the page to a naked flame.
    (I have tried that, incidentally – faithfully following the good Ms Enid Blyton’s instructions. But perhaps the lemons available to English children in the 1930s were of a more subtle sort than those available today. I never had the invisible writing resolve itself into brown lines before my eyes. All I had were scorched fingertips and on one occasion an invisible map of my back garden that went up in a frightening burst of yellow flame. It didn’t matter, I