Any further proof, if proof be need be, that we live in a mixed-up, muddled-up shook up world of bizarre media reportage (I can say all this now I've crossed to the dark side of PR). In another time, you could almost regard John Darwin and his wife as heroes, who scammed their insurance and made it, with nothing more complex than Secret Seven-esque beards and hideouts and canoes, to Panama before they were rumbled by a have-a-go search engine blogger. The idea of doing a moonlight flit, a la Reggie Perrin, is almost romantic. I'm sure a lot of us have thought of it at one time or another. So the vilification of Mr D - and I've seen headlines like Darwin's Dungeon and The Liar, The Witch And The Wardrobe in recent days, is a bit perplexing. Let's face it, they've given the nation a good old laugh in these bleak December days. I'll probably regret this when they make a fortune on the film rights, but for goodness sake, they ain't Fred and Rose. And all this while Gerry McCann is nominated for Scot Of The Year.