I awoke this morning to the disappointing, but unsurprising news that the Houses of Parliament were still standing. At least, I made that assumption as the lead story on the Radio 4 news was Brexit and not how a latter day G.Fawkes had been foiled by our excellent security services in his improbable bid to turn the Mother of Parliaments into the mother and father of all rubble heaps. Even less surprising I suppose was that Brexit wasn’t only the main story, but the follow-up and the grand finale as well, allied with the fact that Jacob Rees Mogg is out of touch with the “common man” (who’d have guessed it!) and Boris the Bountiful didn’t really mean it when he said that….whatever it was he said last month. All that according to Jeremy Corbyn, who thinks that China is a vision of loveliness run by Mandarins who spend their time singing The Mikado and building lots of nice new cities for their incredibly grateful peasants who don’t actually live or work there but can, if they wish, walk round and admire the brilliance of Xi’s, very expensive, town planning. The millions of northern muslims who are incarcerated, ready to be cut up as generous donors of their vital organs, seem to have conveniently escaped Jeremy’s somewhat rose-tinted gaze. Still, amongst all this infantile posturing and mud-slinging a Phoenix is rising from the ashes of the Liberal Party to declare that she is actually the Prime Minister in waiting. The fact that for Ms Swinson to pass through the hallowed portal of No.10, there needs to be a ninety one per cent swing to the Lib Dems seems to have got lost amidst the bravura and braggadociousness. (I use that merely to insert a seventeen letter word into my dissertation, thereby appearing somewhat learned and erudite. You can fool some of the people all of the time……etc.) Ok, ninety one might be a slight exaggeration, but as I haven’t got a clue what the real figure is, that will have to suffice. Either way, Eeyore has a better chance of making the first successful Mars landing than Auntie Jo has of adding a third female portrait to the Downing Street rogues gallery.
You might have noticed there’s no fence-sitting for me, no attempt to hedge one’s bets with “what-ifs” and “supposing this happens”. The exciting news is that if the aforementioned passionate “Remainer” should somehow overcome such impossible odds and actually nick the keys from Boris, your correspondent will have so much egg on his face the family will be eating omelettes for a week!
Amidst all this drama, news has emerged that the Welsh Secretary has resigned because he allegedly knew about a former aide’s role in sabotaging a rape trial, despite having denied having any knowledge of it….or something. I’m resigned to resignations, they’re coming so thick and fast, but I confess I feel a modicum of sympathy for the $12million a year, single, unattached Chief Exec of McDonalds who’s been forced to resign for indulging in a consensual relationship with a female employee. Heaven forbid what outrageous behaviour. He richly deserves to end up on the scrap heap alongside all those paedophiles, rapists and de-frocked Roman Catholic priests for whom celibacy meant not having sex with a woman.
As Henry II might have said ” will nobody rid us of this turbulent p……..political correctness?”.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 