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In the old days, I used to wake up to the morning paper, neatly folded on a silver salver and presented by my valet along with the kedgeree and the brace of grilled quail. Now I wake up to an inbox of Internet stories forwarded by readers that cumulatively feel like the front page from some bizarro kingdom cooked up for an unpersuasive dystopian satire. For example, a headline from the Washington Examiner:

"Transsexual Cabaret Performer Vomits on Susan Sarandon."

An accident? Or the pilot for a hot new reality format? In other news, the London Evening Standard reports:

"Number 10 Denies Naked Gordon Brown Called Aide C-word."

The second round of the hot new reality show? No, the prime ministerial nude had been trying to fix up some one-on-one face time with...