However fitfully, I do try not to use my journalism to pursue private vendettas, but in the case of our resident squirrel my resolution has this week failed me.

The story so far.

January: during long cold snap I put out titbits for birds on stone table outside our house in Derbyshire. Squirrel observed leaping with ease on to table and stealing the lot.

February: we buy cheap bird-feeder and hang it, filled with birdseed, from willow branch. Squirrel jumps up, knocks it down and destroys bird-feeder.

March: we buy a super-duper, multi-port bird feeder and I hang it from higher branch. Squirrel knocks this down into pond.

April: I wade into pond to rescue it, clean and repair, then risk death climbing along extended branch to hang it by some string. Squirrel skips along branch and gnaws through string. Birdfeeder falls. Damaged.

May: I repeat exercise, this time using heavy-duty fishing line. Squirrel seen jumping up angrily at feeder, but without success.

Last Sunday: Lovely sunny day. I go out, leaving house open. My partner, returning before me, enters kitchen. Confronts squirrel sitting by kettle on polished granite work-surface, having sourced birdseed to big (expensive) packet on shelf, pulled it off, punctured it with dozens of tiny toothmarks, scattered contents all over floor and begun eating seed plus slice of toast left over from breakfast. Partner attempts to trap squirrel under hard hat, but fails. Squirrel scampers out through door. Seen, bold as you please, keeping kitchen under observation from nearby steps.

Yesterday: I reach for my mother's old wedding-gift US family cookbook, circa 1947, The American Family at Dinner. Thumb index. S-q-u...

...So here it is, my rodent friend, Mr Think-you're-so-smart Squirrel (and I bet you can read too):

Roast Squirrels

3 small squirrels

¾ cup cooking oil

¼ cup lemon juice

2 cups breadcrumbs

½ cup milk or cream

1 cup sliced mushrooms, sautéed

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

½ teaspoon onion juice

4 tablespoons olive oil or bacon fat

Dress and clean squirrels, wash in several waters and dry. Cover with cooking oil mixed with lemon juice and let stand for 1 hour. Combine crumbs with just enough milk to moisten, mushrooms, salt, pepper and onion juice. Stuff squirrels with this mixture, sew and truss. Place in roaster. Brush with olive oil or bacon fat. Roast uncovered in slow oven (325F) until tender, 1½ to 1¾ hours. Baste every 15 minutes with fat. Serve with pan gravy. Serves 6.

Stewed Squirrels

Clean 3 squirrels, cut lengthwise into halves, simmer in boiling salted water with 1lb carrots until tender...

...but enough. Today, American greys, the fightback begins. Bring it on, squirrels.

The Book of Common Prayer sets out a list of persons and institutions for whose health the nation is to pray every Sunday. After Gordon Brown's exorbitant tax U-turn this week, a desperate bid to stave off defeat in next Thursday's by-election in Crewe & Nantwich, I wonder whether the Church of England could be persuaded to add to the list?

Gwyneth Dunwoody's demise has cost us £2.7 billion. In 1966 a Labour Government paid what turned out to be a £151 million bribe - in the form of the wildly uneconomic Humber bridge - to win a by-election in Hull (“You will get your bridge,” the Transport Minister, Barbara Castle, told a cheering hustings), so even taking inflation into account, the stakes for by-election bribes appear to be on a savage upswing. A

handful more deaths on the Labour back benches could bankrupt the British State.

I envisage something like this:

Priest: O Lord, shew thy mercy upon us;

Answer: And grant us thy salvation.

Priest: O Lord, save the Queen;

Answer: And mercifully hear us when we call upon thee.

Priest: Endue thy ministers with righteousness;

Answer: And make thy chosen people joyful.

Priest: Grant, O Lord, the gift of health to all Labour MPs whose constituencies could be lost in by-elections.

Answer: For thou alone can'st protect us from the financial consequences of the ensuing bribe.

Massive sympathetic postbag, after Alice Miles's cruel gibes (in her account in the Travel section of our seven-day holiday together in São Tomé) about my packing only three pairs of underpants, as opposed to her ludicrous eight pairs of knickers. One wise and kindly correspondent recommends taking only three socks (same colour), and washing one sock every day. This, henceforward, will be my rule.

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