Our Man has been accused of doing a Woody Allen - going all introspective and being not very funny (not, he assumes of shagging an adopted daughter). Guilty as charged (the humour thing, not the adopted daughter thing).
But then, in mitigation, may he say life's pretty funny, just not funny hah hah at the mo. The bunker is a right mess, with various supplies for a children's fair in Ishinomaki Our Woman is organising spilling out from under the stairs; Japanese politics seems to have not bloody changed at all with the same old bickering and non-scandal scandals simmering.
And remember all that power-saving sacrifice that the plucky Japanese stoically bore? It's all over. Saving energy is so last season, baby, this month it's bung another plutonium log on the fire and march on to the 3DTV shop to spend for the betterment of Japan.
Oh, and no-one is to blame for the nuke catastrophe, according to operator Tepco - it was a natural disaster beyond anyone's control, although it's a wonder anyone can read between the nuke power lines, they are so redacted.
Sigh. But the novel is coming along. It'll be done in less than one Japanese Prime Minister, and should have a few funny bits in it (funny strange or funny hah hah? - ed). Nearing end of first draft, but it's still, how you say, unfocused (oh, I get it - ed).
As you were.