What's that peculiar phallic pillar across the room from the sultry Beverly-Hills-style starlet?

It looks a bit like a giant nail-varnish bottle. And am I imagining it, or are her slim, manicured fingers about to select an 18-inch cigarette from the Old Gold box? You got this from a psychology book?

Raise your hand if you're going to be really, really disappointed when it turns out there's not actually an Echelon file on you.

I bet I have one. I imagine it's stamped something like, "oh, hell! This boring old wind-bag again. Don't bother taking notes."

No, No Mr Weasel,

We take great interest in all you say. It is all most interesting...all the Samizdatae have BIG Echelon files!

But of course mine is bigger, and size does matter in these things.

"Threre is no smoke without being fired".

>all the Samizdatae have BIG Echelon files

I think we probably do, yes.

Aww, bless! Look how important you think you are! That's so cute.

Actually Jason does have a point... until we represent effective action which actually makes a difference to the snoops and control freaks who regulate our lives, I suspect our echelon files are languishing in zip format on some seldom accessed archive server labled 'harmless loonies'.