Shame

That was excellent chicken soup you made yesterday, when your mother came to lunch, said Pliny the Elder.

Thank you, Pliny. Sometimes I succeed in doing good things.

Meaning? prompted Pliny.

Meaning sometimes I do things that could be judged to be bad, I replied.

Go on, said Pliny, looking interested.

Well, for example, on Saturday I expressed a wish that two of the world's greatest despots would die, I said.

That doesn't sound like you.

I know. It happened like this. My daughter asked me what I would like for my birthday. She asked what I wanted most in the world. I couldn't think of anything I wanted personally, so I said the deaths of Robert Mugabe and Kim Jong-il. Failing which, I added, I would like something frivolous from a smart London shop.

Pliny looked shocked.

For your birthday? he said, incredulously.

Yes. I regretted it afterwards, because of course it was morally indefensible.

It was indeed, agreed Pliny. What did your daughter say?

She said I should have asked for peace in Zimbabwe and North Korea, and that I would never make it as a pope, because I had no idea of spin.

No, I meant about the frivolous present, said Pliny. Why didn't you ask for something useful?