My God, my God, oh my God. The stuff that arrives on my desk in plain brown envelopes is impossible to believe. Mostly, this is the direct result of the general public’s favourable opinion of the media, which they know can be trusted to tell the truth and right wrongs, although not necessarily in that order. It seemed, as my fevered eye raced across the text, that this was nothing less than page 93 of the verbatim transcript of the very first meeting between something called The La Luta Continua Widows and Orphans Pension Fund and a friendly group of international arms dealers, all of whom —thank God! — spoke English.