So that's it, then. Barring some miracle, such as a team of British broadcasting executives being placed in charge of the vote, Hillary Clinton could be nearing the end of her run at the presidency. It's not over till the lady sings, but when you have to dig into your own savings to keep a campaign going, it's time to say goodnight, gracefully.

Hillary's supporters, ever reluctant to let reality get in the way of a dream, are already whispering about what she might do next. The talk is of a joint bid with Obama, with Hillary as VP. On the other side of the electoral race, serious voices are suggesting Condi Rice for the McCain ticket. This could be the first Mr and Mrs-style presidential race in history. Won't that be fun.

The Rice-McCain partnership is just insane enough to work, but Hillary and Obama, well. The pairing might have stood a chance if he wasn't on her Christmas card list somewhere between Monica Lewinsky and Gennifer Flowers. But the real obstacle to any Hillary-Barack political marriage is Bill. Sometimes it has been hard to tell which Clinton is running against Obama. With her, it's strictly politics. With Bill, it could almost be personal. The man once dubbed America's "first black president" seemed to be inordinately riled by the guy who could be the real deal. Male pride, protecting his wife, genuine ideological differences - whatever the reason, Bill has occasionally come across as a poor sport, which is not the American way.

If Hillary Clinton fails to secure the nomination it won't be because of her husband's Obama-inspired tantrums. Apart from an uncanny ability to divide people between fervent admirers and implacable enemies, that surname cost her dear. After the Kennedys and the Bushes, and dozens of others further down the Congressional food chain, America is tiring of dynasties. Like Obama says, Americans need change they can believe in. It's time to replace one obscenely rich person in hock to their family with another obscenely rich person in hock to strangers.

Should there be recriminations in the Clinton household (the very thought!), Hillary might be tempted to heap the entire blame on her other half. Like Cherie Blair a long time ago, this capable, superbly clever individual once stood aside to let her husband get ahead in politics. Neither woman has ever recovered from the sacrifice. Hillary's campaign slogan should have been: "It's my turn. I earned it." Yet it wasn't and she didn't. Given the chance to go it alone from the start, both Hillary and Cherie chose to hitch a ride to power and influence on another's coat-tail.

Still, they can point to other achievements along the way. Hillary was eventually elected to office in her own right and has turned out to be a formidable operator. Cherie, meanwhile, has a £1.5m memoir deal and a lovely new stately home in Buckinghamshire to decorate. The £4m pad, formerly Sir John Gielgud's home, is within spitting distance of her old gaff, Chequers. With her knack for finding the ideal property in the right location, Cherie is a woman simply begging to be given her own show on Channel 4. Working title: Brass Neck, Brass Neck, Brass Neck.

ADORABLE is the only way to describe the "sausage kittens" of Aberdeen, so-called because, like dachshunds, they're bred to have short legs. Here's hoping the little darlings never bump into any of those giraffe mice.

M&S has been praised by environmentalists for bringing in a 5p charge for plastic carriers. To ease the switch-over, it has doled out 15 million free "bags for life". Personally, I feel a step nearer green heaven now the kitchen cupboard stuffed with evil placcy bags has been refilled with the polar bear-friendly variety. As long as I convert to Buddhism and am reincarnated as a human entity for the next 100 years, I should get through at least half of them.

WELL done to all those Scots, your correspondent included, who spent a hard winter in the gym preparing their bodies for the first glimpse of summer. Walking through any park in the past week has been just like cruising Venice Beach, so beautiful were the specimens on display. It takes years of dedication to get beer bellies that finely sculpted and love handles so perfectly shaped. Apparently there's a photographer from Sports Illustrated on the next plane over, or just as soon as he can stop laughing.