Ez egy állat. Csak a briteket tartsák távol Brüsszeltől, mert az eredmény olyan sótlan lesz, hogy visszafordítja a szikesedést nagyobb területeken is, akár.

"The Diary has been in Moscow this month. It was one of those ordinary Russian months, with a bomb in the metro, a catastrophe at a leisure park, the alleged kidnap of a presidential candidate, and the sacking of the entire government by President Putin.

What struck me most, though, on my first winter visit to Moscow for some years, was the state of the pavements.

I saw many elderly women, wrapped up in their brown shawls, busily scraping snow away from the entrances to their apartment blocks, as they have since time began.

But as for the young men who are apparently supposed to look after public pavements, they seemed to be operating under a new regulation which requires them to gape vacantly into space while chipping haplessly with a spade at two-inch coverings of ice, then give up altogether when only a tiny patch has been removed.

Ten million people walk around the slippery pavements with muscles tensed like tennis racquet strings, taking tiny steps to avoid falling.

Despite copying these sensible precautions I twice landed flat on my back, on one occasion finding myself gazing up into the vacant mug of an ice-chipper, leaning contentedly on his spade.

He didn't offer to help me up, as he was clearly having a break. I think he was laughing."

Mondta ezt Mr Roxburgh, Moszkvában.

"Back in Brussels now, and apologies for all I wrote above. We've a little snow fall, and the entire heart of the EU has ground to a halt. Lorries have overturned all over the place, tunnels are closed: it's chaos.

As I struggled to work this morning, I slipped on the ice, landed flat on my back, and found myself staring up into the soulless eyes of a eurocrat, clutching a briefcase to his chest.

He probably works for the transport directorate. "

Mondta ezt Mr Roxburgh, Brüsszelben.