Father forgive us, for we know not what we are going to do

Normally I love the surreal. I was laying on the bed the other night watching something called 'Time Trumpet', full of aging and balding current celebrities at some point in the future looking back on the present day. I was particularly taken with a balding Bod Geldorf still swearing every other word.

I must have dozed for a while, I know not how long, but when I opened my eyes the show was still going. A grey-haired Tony Blair was explaining his brilliant plan to predict future asbo candidates before birth. That's better then though-crime, that's future-crime. I suppose I could stretch the grammatical pun and call it future-perfect-crime, but it doesn't really seem to mean anything.

It was a shock the next morning to wake up properly and find that I hadn't been watching Time Trumpet, the grey-haired Tony Blair really has decided we should ultra-scan the wombs for potential antisocial citizens.

The last political party that decided to take action against people for potential-but-not-yet-committed crimes locked them up in camps and gassed them.