I never thought Trident was a particularly tuff name for the UK 'continuous nuclear deterrent' seeing as I'm more familiar with it as a cheap and cheerful brand of pot noodles and sticky sauces.  Having looked at the photo in this article about the probability that it'll be getting less dosh thrown at it, I can add "maaaaaan, that's ugly" to my deep and meaningful assessment.

But enough of things that go bang, because leading almost all the news today are cuts! strikes! unions!

In a cunning strike, thousands of BBC staff are set to walk off for four days, creating an effective telly blackout of, amongst other things, the Tory party conference.  (Those asking how the deprivation can be borne might perhaps head off to their local and keep real ale sales on the rise.)  I am slightly suspicious that this may be some sort of karmic retribution for the Tories delaying the Queen's speech (not that it's really hers) to ... 2012.  All I'm saying is hands off the Christmas message. 

Because everyone should have their media moment to mount a 'plaint about cuts, the Police are having a grizzle.  Britain's sweethearts are worried that they won't have enough funding to be able to go out and bash other people who don't have enough funding. 

In the midst of all this strikery, a Guardian editorial suggests that the unions 'learn the language of middle Britain'.  'Middle Britain', not to be confused with Middle Earth or Little Britain, is really a sort of nebulous throw-it-about-in-your-campaign-vid term, so I'm not convinced this is a deeply helpful suggestion. 

Lots of the strike talk turns to the North.  As a student of the North, and 'cos I've read books about this stuff y'know, I'm planning a whole post of its own about this at some stage this week.  Oooh!  Eeee! 

Speaking of the North, I commend this Hud Examiner reportage on light sticks on trains to everyone.  (Thankyou to the artist in residence for giggling at it earlier.)

Down south, Lymington, who headlined yesterday's newsfest, are still in the news, with Patrick Barkham suggesting they might not be quite as rebelliously anti-High Street as I had hoped.  I did rather enjoy the suggestion from some of the local young 'uns that the town might suit a Slug and Lettuce more than a Wetherspoon's. 

Since the Lymington coverage now comes with a whiff of nimbyism, and since wind farms are a classic nimby is-sue, everyone should be pleased that the world's largest offshore wind farm is opening off the coast of Kent. 

... shove it, if you live in Lymington, that is.  Having previously blocked an Argos, local residents have now done for a proposed branch of the bang-up meal and pint joint, according to Rob Hastings in the Indy.  Interesting here is that Lymington has apparently copped it for being 'too posh for Argos' (something that I may request for my epitaph), which admittedly doesn't automatically conjure images of a twin-set and pearls.  Is there a line between trying to keep a local character against the carbon-copy High Street onslaught and just being a fancy pants?  I'm not convinced there is, but then there is something in the M&S egg and cress sarnie that speaks to my soul (probably salmonella). 

And from that brief stopover at the Indy, we move on to exclusive Guardian coverage, for which I, sat here in my homespun, am unapologetic. 

Julian Glover takes on Cameron's cuts and visions of slashing the state. 

More political diaries!  Huzzah!  This time, Chris Mullin (never 'eard of 'im), who was Labour MP for beautiful Sunderland South for 23 years.  (Clearly an excuse to leave Sunderland for a large chunk of the year).  Anyway, he presents his diaries for the past five years under the apt title of Decline and Fall, which, according to Anne Perkins, are rather good. 

And in the continuing TB epidemic, Alistair Darling and his eyebrow have knocked out a review.  (Duly noted with a small font since I am not supposed to be looking at any more of these.) 

In aristocracy news, have a Mitford.  The dowager Duchess of Devonshire, to be precise.  She likes chickens, which raises her in my appreciation considerably. 

After my enjoyment of the delightful D of D, it was a bit of a downer to hit an article about the age of criminal responsibility.  Barnado's want to raise it: at the moment, the age is 10.  They want to see it go up to 12. 

In other crime news, fly-tipping (aka illegal rubbish dumping) is going down.   How do we know this?  Because there's a national database, of course.