Another year of bitter disappointment - I have once again failed to win the Nobel Prize for Peace. My pitch – that I deserve to win it because I am not George W Bush – had a lot going for it, I thought. But instead the honour went to Barack Obama, whose pitch was identical. Neither of us – Barack or me – have done anything whatsoever to enhance world peace, aside from not being George. I assume they gave it to Barack instead of me because he is black: fair enough, I can see the point of that. Still, I think I came closer than usual in the running – the judges at least accepted my thesis and agreed with it. This has not always been the case. I first attempted to win the Nobel Prize for Peace when I was twelve, on the grounds that I had not prosecuted a vicious genocidal war against a third world country. However, the judges decided to give the prize to Henry Kissinger instead, a decision I found confusing. The closest I’ve come since then was in my mid 30s when I alerted the judges to my complete and utter refusal to sponsor international terrorism and included the important subsidiary point that I believe tea towels should be used to do the drying up, rather than worn on the head. What happened? They gave the prize to Yasser Arafat. I suppose one shouldn’t take these defeats personally: they are a law unto themselves, these judges.