I can see the Emperor's winky

Kind of the Sun , huh?

In January, I set myself the task of reading every book of recycled Littlejohn columns. I was hoping to spot a through line and work out the odd logic that make the columns fit together. I had kind of lofty hopes that involved the word 'narrative'.

A few weeks ago, I decided to read the Sun every day for a week with something similar in mind. I don't know what I expected to find, but I had a vague idea that the Sun is like the Mail with a sense of humour, softer edges around its xenophobia and less prissiness about showing pictures of tits. Finding out whether this is true was supposed to do something or other. I forget what.