Ah, Madame!

It's strange how life goes, don't you think? I have these very well-meaning intentions to behave myself and have early nights and not go out on the town etc., and then it all goes wrong when I receive more invitations than I can cope with. Tonight I went to this year's launch of the Nottingham Creative Business Awards. You will remember that two years ago we (The Nottingham Writers' Studio, that is) were runners-up n these awards, and we're still debating whether to enter the competition this year. Notwithstanding that, I decided to attend this evening's launch party – after all, there was lots of free booze and food in the glittering and palatial ballroom of Nottingham City's Council House.

But what of the morality of all this? While there are people living on the breadline in this city; people who struggle even to feed their children or to pay their rent or rates – we, in our privileged position of Arts Council grants and other nefarious funding; we, with our well-paid jobs and extravagant dividends from the shares that we hold – we don't even have to pay for our drinks when we turn up for parties like this. It does seem to me that there is something inequitable about this arrangement, but the shaming thing about it is that we forget that simple fact when someone offers to top up our glass, or force upon us another mini-quiche or stick of satay. I almost feel like a sleazy MP.

But then again, I pay my own rent; I pay my own Council Tax, electricity & gas charges. I pay for my own food, my own accountant's bills, AND I pay for my own charity donations (whether given in church or not). I don't expect – or receive – state reimbursement for any such items. So although I do sometimes stuff my snout in the trough, I pay my way too. I've always done that – unlike our present politicians who only seem to feather their own nests without any regard for public accountability.

What pisses me off is this: These people who are now resigning from their self-indulgent sinecures are bleating that these latest revelations are damaging their health and their families?? They should have thought of that before they began to stick their fat engorged tongues into the bowl of soured cream. The most annoying thing about all of this is that for the likes of Jacqui Smith (and the odious – truly loathsome – Patricia Hewitt), they'll skulk away from Parliament into some hugely remunerative directorship of an equally grasping and excessive sort.

Yep, I think it's time for a revolution – but please, just because of my little party tonight, don't put me in the tumbrils first!