Saddam Hussein, who has always harboured literary pretensions (and has written several novels that were obligatory bestsellers in Iraq) is said be working on his memoirs.

The deposed tyrant, now cooling his heels in jail, has plenty of time to pursue his literary activities, which are said to also include writing reams of poetry.

I emailed the prison, and one of Saddam's guards was kind enough to send me a snippet from the autobiography-in-progress:

...I couldn't believe my good fortune when Kofi informed me that I would be the one to decide who could be in the program. "But Kofi," I said, "what about the sanctions?"

"Don't worry, my friend," said Kofi. "I trust you'll make the right decisions, especially since you've demonstrated, again and again, your warm regard for nepotism. Wink, wink, 'nuff said."

After that, the shekels poured in like the River Euphrates. "This is freakin' fabulous," I said to myself, as I made plans to spend my windfall. Mosques, palaces, a new Turbo Carrera for Uday--it was like winning the lottery. Only much better, because I could pretend it was for humanitarian purposes, all the while secretly sticking it to The Great Satan...

Synopsis of next chapter: George Galloway visits the palace and tells me a mirthful joke about a cat on a roof.