George Michael crashes out in car. Again.

Oh, Lord. Not again. As Oscar Wilde never said, to fall asleep at the wheel of your car once is unfortunate; to do it three or four times makes it look like you need to hand in your licence. This time, cops apparently found weed when they were called to George Michael, getting some sleep at the junction of Cricklewood Lane and Hendon Way at three in the morning.

He was taken first to hospital for a check-up, and thence to Colindale police station where he was cautioned for possession of drugs and charged over the driving offences.

His partner Kenny Goss said at their North London home last night: “He has nothing to say. He’s fine and I’ve got him a McDonald’s.”

That'll teach him.

Victoria Newton, meanwhile, is cross:

IT’S impossible to feel anything but frustration with George Michael.

Well, boredom is starting to come up on the outside, to be fair.

[H]e seems intent on squandering his God-given talent.

Victoria, it's too bloody early in the morning to get into a theological debate with you here, but what's with the "god-given"?

[I]t would be a tragedy if his astonishing legacy is tarnished by his bizarre behaviour.

Although, clearly, not so much of a tragedy that you feel it would have been worth not reporting his symptoms in the paper, eh?