When it comes to high profile fiasco, no one can quite ratchet up the drama like the Americans.

German Chancellor Angela Merkel is raging at wee Barry Obama for hacking into her mobile. She was so concerned she had to phone him over concerns that trust was being eroded.

No sense of irony then, as she spoke...on the phone... Didn't it occur to her? Not the phone Angela!!! I blame that Snowden. It's his fault, him and all that holier-than-thou truth stuff.

It wasn't just the German Chancellor. French President Francois Hollande got done over too, although he's so unpopular even the footballers in his country have gone on strike, so he's happy to speak to anyone, clandestine or not.

When I started writing this only Merkel and Hollande had been confirmed. Now it appears "Call Me" (geddit) Dave Cameron may have been hacked along with some 32 world leaders.

People in Germany are genuinely shocked at the story. It's been reported as a serious diplomatic rift. Chancellor Merkel is claiming it's wrong to spy badly (and get caught) on friends.   

It seems half the planet have had their phones hacked by American Intelligence agencies. How intelligent are you and how badly are you doing your job if you keep getting caught?

I continue to blow the dust off 1947's Whittaker's Almanac as my search engine. I realise it may be time to embrace technology and start using Google.

But the good thing about my Almanac is that, when I read it, I don't have outside agencies checking: "Oh Chuck, this guy in Scotland's a regular nut. He's looking up the annual rainfall of Seattle. (It's roughly 38 inches incidentally) - Oh wait, OMG now he's looking up the state capital of New Jersey'. (It's Trenton by the way) - He must be up to something Chuck, call Dale at the CIA."

If you're lost in your work, it's quite easy to stumble upon what in hindsight could be perceived as a peculiar internet research pattern.

Just say, for example, that you're writing a novel and decide to have a terrorism plot twist and put easiest type of plane to fly, terrain for North Pakistan and suicide bomber into your search engine, you would be in Guantanamo before you could Google the word 'lawyer'.

The trouble with intelligence is that it's only as good as those dealing and interpreting the narrative and the timeline. When it becomes made up and those listening get more post-modern in the fiction department than Don Delillo that's when it all gets tricky.

I find it incredible that we walk about with tablets and phones, small computers in our hands tweeting our opinion, sharing our feelings, thoughts, photographs and location with the planet, then squeal about loss of privacy. Though if anyone is snooping around, I genuinely love antique jugs and when I was at school, dogging it meant something else completely.

Politicians can lose their sheen. Vince Cable hasn't really been the same since the rarefied air of front bench politics and that stint on Strictly Come Dancing.

He used to be the go-to man for common sense and sanity during the banking crisis. In the past, Cable, a man of conscience, would've been out along with Major speaking about energy hikes.

But Cable has evolved into a Crombie-wearing, cigar-puffing Del Boy estate agent. Imagine you went to sell your house and he valued it at £330K? You say OK; it's a deal. (I forgot to say you won the lottery last week), then the next day it's sold for over £530K, would you feel upset? You would, especially if he suggested it was down to a little bit of froth and excitement in the market.  

As the SNP conference closed, the message was simple. It's time to focus on two crucial areas. Loyal Labour supporters and the 'missing millions'. The Loyal Labour supporter, that's an obvious one.

The missing millions? Those who have lost faith in politics, who've become disenfranchised. The CBAs; the cannae be arsed brigadae. It's a serious matter though. The side who take the most CBAs will be victorious.  

Well there's been no escaping it. The Great British Bake Off final took place this week and my favourite Frances, the quiet, shy, self conscious artistic vegetarian, won.

Eight million viewers tuned in to see the drama unfold. If next week's Scottish First Ministers Questions is close, can we have a cheesy scone bake off?

Salmond and Lamont have to rustle up a cheesy scone. The winner gets to hit Mike Russell on the head with a rolling pin.

I remember loads from the 1970s. David Bowie on Top of the Pops, power cuts and candles. I was just too young for punk, 9 or 10. I loved the songs, the sound and fury but was happy to escape to bed with my Broons, Roy of the Rovers and Beano annuals.

Escapism was the order of the day. Rats the size of Dobermans feasted over discarded bin bags because bin men were on strike. When the firemen went on strike, a house across the road went up like a cheap nightie. Soldiers jumped out like extras from the Battle of Britain from a Green Goddess.

I remember the guilt when I laughed. It was one of those uncomfortable laughs, like being on a train and someone demure and elegant farts like a docker. Maybe it's the weather or the economic climate but this week is starting to feel like the 1970s.

Labour won the Dunfermline by-election. The most comical and nonsensical line came from Scottish Conservative James Reekie. "When the people of Dunfermline are faced with the dilemma of Labour and the SNP, they chose the Conservatives." He was fourth.