We've had two sieges at The Nation, a downfall and a coup to cover. Hence our huge, new, silver-plated gates. Fortress Nation. The only thing missing is a moat. And roaming cavalry.

Ah, the resignation of the finance minister: "It's a disaster," boomed one opinion piece. "It's an opportunity," screamed another. Maybe they are both right in the sense that his departure is an opportunity for a fresh disaster. I'm not the least bit concerned about MR Pridiyathorn Devakula. For a start, he's loaded. Secondly, he's fortunate to live in a polite culture. If anything rude was said about him, it was behind his back. He should consider himself fortunate he isn't Gordon Brown, the chancellor of the Exchequer of Great Britain, of whom one backbencher recently remarked: "He's like Dr Spock without the human bits."

***

Anyone who claims they understand Thai politics should be escorted to a psychiatric ward. Shot of ephedrine, sir? Oh, yes please.

Probing the inner workings of how this country is run is like stirring a void with a teaspoon. Like many political systems on this planet right now, the lifeline between authority and virtue appears to have snapped. Politics is about politicians. Facts have nothing to do with it. You can wander their interpretations forever. It's gloriously unprincipled. Nobody knows where the money goes in Thailand. And yet, it's wonderful to live in a country that has created a system of such bureaucratic complexity it would have made the Soviets blush.

But for those citizens who consider themselves rational there's now a whiff of dereliction born of exhaustion and desperate for a new sanity, because they realise that politicians never get as much as they would like, expect or feel they deserve. Meanwhile, we are fleeced at will.

You just get that feeling you wouldn't want to share a bivouac with any of them. Like those fat border guards, lethargic with power, these are men of fallible desires, and all too mortal. This layer of society often excuse themselves by saying: "There are others who are worse than us, so why not go after them?" It seems the richer someone is, the more influence they have over society, yet the less they seem to give a toss about it. They remind you of Madonna: every couple of years she has to revamp her whole look to maintain a sense of being trendy, while remaining essentially the same. But when you ask them a pertinent question they look as though you've said something truly surreal, as if you'd suggested the Hindu religion started out as an aquarium.

***

To bring politicians closer to the people perhaps we should invite Chaturon, Somsak, Chalerm, Chidchob, Sondhi, a few Thai Rak Thai numpties and all the other bright lights in the firmament to appear on "Big Brother". And, while they are holed up in a suburban house for three months screaming at each other - and then making deals - we could hold an election and start running the country without them. Crazy idea? Of course it is. But then nobody ever lost money underestimating the taste of the Thai people.

There have been a few announcements to suggest political parties should be friendlier, along the lines of: "We shall initiate a network of 'We Abhor Poverty Zones', in which a panel of eminent suits within a tambon shall meet once a month to announce they 'dislike poverty'. In particular, Merc-owning businessmen who pay their staff below the minimum wage will be encouraged to say: 'It must be hell at Songkran', though this will be voluntary."

For those thinking of joining a political party a couple of years back the choice might have been: "Well, the Democrats offer a wider variety of opportunities, but with the Thai Rak Thai Party there's more chance of owning a castle."

Today? Make friends with a general.

***

Some people say that to be a good politician "you need to be agile". Agile? Most politicians here couldn't open an umbrella without puncturing somebody's lung. So it was wonderful to see the balls up at the opening of PTV. "We will do nothing to create disharmony," waffled a Thai Rak Thai suit. "They will have to kill us first to stop us broadcasting," shrieked one of the co-owners, while 300 people in the background shouted: "Thai Rak Thai! Fight Fight Fight!"

Perhaps these words could be included in the chorus of the National Reconciliation Song. Further tantrums can be expected.

***

The world's oldest surviving headline, dated December 2, 1620: "The new tidings out of Italie are not yet come."

We can only surmise how the UK's tabloid The Sun might have handled the victory at Waterloo. How about: "NAPOLEON BLOWNAPART!"?

For what it's worth, I reckon the best age to be is your early 20s: you don't realise how difficult life is going to get. After all, life expectancy in Zimbabwe is now 37. In Afghanistan it's 43.

***

Way before the Oscars, Ellen DeGeneres accepted the dubious honour of hosting the Emmys in November 2001, a couple months after 9/11, but she delivered an opening line that served her career and her country in the best possible manner: "We're told to go on living our lives as usual because to do otherwise is to let the terrorists win, and really, what would upset the Taleban more than a gay woman wearing a suit in front of a room full of Jews?"

She should have got an Oscar for that.

***

In some respects, Thaksin reminds me of King Louis XVI - without the powdered wig. Now there was a man who knew how to divide a country. Trapped in Versailles, the king reiterated his demand to the National Assembly that his legal entitlement to travel within a radius of 20 miles from the Paris be honoured. On a moonless night in June 1791, Louis, along with Marie Antoinette and the children, set off on a well prepared plan to reach the Prussian border. But it all fell apart, and they got busted in Varennes. Later he tried to claim he'd been "abducted". Yeah, right.

When the mob in Paris found out the king had tried to escape they went through the streets of Paris smashing shops and inn signs bearing the king's name, screaming: "Louis Out!" Holed up above a candle-makers in Varennes, he watched 6,000 armed citizens and the National Guard turn up. As the royal carriage approached Paris, there was not the faintest pretence of a royal entry, although he still had many supporters. Instead of cheering, crowds had been instructed by the Assembly to show "restrained disrespect". Widely posted signs read: "Anyone who applauds him will be beaten. Anyone who insults him will be hanged."

Compiled by Roger Beaumont